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THE ZIGZAG SERIES. 



BY 

HEZEKIAH BUTTERWORTH, 

OF THE EDITORIAL STAFF OF THE "YOUTH'S COMPANION," AND 
CONTRIBUTOR TO " ST. NICHOLAS" MAGAZINE. 

Each volume complete in itself. 



NOW PUBLISHED. 
ZIGZAG JOURNEYS IN EUROPE. 
ZIGZAG JOURNEYS IN CLASSIC LANDS. 
ZIGZAG JOURNEYS IN THE ORIENT. 
ZIGZAG JOURNEYS IN THE OCCIDENT. 

New Volume for 1883. 
ZIGZAG JOURNEYS IN NORTHERN LANDS. 



S^^ Over 100,000 volumes of the Zigzag books have 
already been sold. 



Digitized by the Internet Archive 
in 2011 with funding from 
The Library of Congress 



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Zigzag Journeys 



NORTHERN LANDS. 



THE RHINE TO THE ARCTIC 



A SUMMER TRIP OF THE ZIGZAG CLUB THROUGH 

HOLLAND, GERMANY, DENMARK, NORWAY, 

AND SWEDEN. 



BY 



HEZEKIAH BUTTERWORTH, 

AUTHOR OF "YOUNG FOLKS' HISTORY OF AMERICA," ''YOUNG FOLKS' HISTORY OF BOSTON," 
"ZIGZ4G JOURNEYS IN EUROPE," ETC. 



FULLY ILLUSTRATED. 



BOSTON: 
ESTES AND LAURIAT, 

301-305 Washington Street. 
1884. 




o 



Copyright, 1SS3, 
By Estes and Lauriat. 




PREFACE. 




HIS fifth volume of the Zigzag books, in which 
history is taught by a supposed tour of interesting 
places, might be called a German story-book. 

It was the aim of " Zigzag Journeys in Europe " 
and " Zigzag Journeys in Classic Lands " to 
make history interesting by stories and pictures of places. It was the 
purpose of " Zigzag Journeys in the Orient " to explain the Eastern 
Question, and of " Zigzag Journeys in the Occident " to explain 
Homesteading in the West. 

The purpose of this volume is the same as in " Europe " and 
" Classic Lands." A light narrative of travel takes the reader to the 
places most conspicuously associated with German history, tradition, 
literature, and art, and in a disconnected way gives a view of the most 
interesting events of those Northern countries that once constituted a 
great part of the empire of Charlemagne. 

It is the aim of these books to stimulate a love of history, and to 
suggest the best historical reading. To this end popular stories and 
pictures are freely used to adapt useful information to the tastes of 



8 PREFACE. 

the young. But in every page, story, and picture, right education and 
right influence are kept in view. 

In this volume many German legends and fairy stories have been 
used, but they are so introduced and guarded as not to leave a wrong 
impression upon the minds of the young and immature. 

H. B. 



CONTENTS. 



Chapter Page 

I. The River of Story and Song 15 

II. Ghost Stories 21 

III. A Story-telling Journey 40 

IV. German Stories 60 

V. The Second Meeting of the Club . 76 

VI. Night Second 92 

VII. Evening the Third . 104 

VIII. Evening the Fourth 122 

IX. Fifth Meeting for Rhine Stories 145 

X. Night the Sixth 165 

XL Cologne 184 

XII. Hamburg 206 

XIII. The Bells of the Rhine ..221 

XIV. The Songs of the Rhine ' 253 

XV. Copenhagen 277 

XVI. Norway . 288 

XVII. The Greater Rhine 309 



ILLUSTRATIONS. 



PAGE 

Carrying Siegfried's Body . . Frontispiece. 

Introducing Christianity into the North. 16 

Castle in Rhine Land 17 

Tower of Rudesheim on the Rhine . . 19 

Mountain Scenery in Southern Germany 23 

" I 've seen de Debbie " 26 

Cat and Rat 27 

Grandmother Golden 29 

The Frightened Irishman 30 

Duncan Asleep 34, 

Witches 35 

The Grand-Ducal Castle, Schwerin . . 41 

Ancient German Houses 43 

Ancient Religious Rites of the Peasants 45 

Old Fortress on the Rhine 50 

St. Dunstan and the Devil 53^ 

The Murder of Edward 58' 

The Emperor William and Napoleon III. 63 

William before his Father 64 

King William's Helmet 6$ 

Jamie at the Strange-looking House . t 67 

Mountain Scene in Germany .... 69 

Jamie rushing towards his Mother . . 71 

The Dwarf and the Goose 72 

Eberhard ... 74 

Bridge in the Via Mala 77 

John Huss ... 79 

Bismarck 81 

Peter in the Forest 86 

Peter and the Manikin 88 

Peter surpassed the King of Dancers . 89 

Peter and the Giant 90 

A Village in the Black Forest .... 93 



Peasant's House in the Black Forest 

Von Moltke 

Fountain at Schaffhausen 

The Old Woman's Directions .... 

The Hen and the Trench 

Strasburg Cathedral 

^Platform of Strasburg Cathedral . . . 

Thus didst thou to the Vase of Soissons 

..Street in Strasburg 

• Clovis 

Monsieur Lacombe and the Organ . 

" Here is an Odd Treasure "'.... 

Palace at Heidelberg 

German Student 

-Castle at Heidelberg 

German Students 

Entrance to Heidelberg Castle . . . 

Little Mook 

Amputation 

The Queer Old Lady who went to Col- 
lege 

"And it told to her the Truth "... 

" Not very, very plain " 

"They you straightway in invite" 

" He of the Philosophie " 

A Battle between Franks and Saxons . 

Luther's House 

A tribe of Germans on an Expedition . 

The Murder of Siegfried 

Mayence 

Bishop Hatto and the Rats 

View on the Rhine 

The Lorelei 



95 
97 
99 
101 
102 
105 
107 
109 
in 
113 
"5 
120 
123 
126 
127 
131 
135 
137 
139 

140 
141 
141 
141 
H3 
146 

147 

149 

151 
153 

155 
158 

159 



12 



ILL USTRA TIONS. 



Herman's Eyes were fixed on the Rock 163 

Ehrenbreitstein 166 

Goethe's Promenade 167 

Faust Signing 171 

Faust and Mephistopheles 172 

A Cleft in the Mountains 175 

Voltaire 179 

The Unnerved Hussar 182 

Cathedral of Cologne 185 

The Mysterious Architect 189 

St. Martin's Church, Cologne .... 193 

Charlemagne in the School of the Palace 197 
Charlemagne inflicting Baptism upon the 

Saxons 201 

The Germans on an Expedition . . . 203^ 

Canal in Hamburg 207 

,^The Palace in Berlin 209 

Grotto 211 

Sans-Souci 213 

Peter the Wild Boy 217 

The Silent Castles 223 

Hotel de Ville, Ghent 225 

Bell-Tower, Ghent 228 

Castle at Heidelberg 229 

Breslau 233 

Finishing the Bell 236 

At the Inn 237 

The Day of Execution 238 



PAGE 

Above the Town 241 

Old Peasant Costume 244 

The Old City 245 

Old Peasant Costume 247 

Old Peasant Costumes 248 

City Gate 249 

The Neckar 250 

An Old German Town 255 

The Rhinefels 257 

Mayence in the Olden Time .... 262 

Beethoven's Home at Bonn .... 268 

A City of the Rhine 271 

The River of Song 274 

The Palace of Rosenborg 278 

View of Copenhagen 279 

Palace of Fredericksborg 283 

The King in the Bag 286 

Gustavus Adolphus 289 

Death of Gustavus and his Page . . . 293 

Cascade in Norway 297 

Lazaretto 299 

•The Naero Fiord 300 

Take in Norway 303 

-The Coast 307 

Niagara Falls 311 

A New England in the West . . . . 315 

Near Quebec 317 



ZIGZAG JOURNEYS IN NORTHERN LANDS. 



ZIGZAG JOURNEYS 



IN 



NORTHERN LANDS. 



CHAPTER I. 




THE RIVER OF STORY AND SONG. 

HE Rhine! River of what histories, tragedies, 
comedies, legends, stories, and songs ! Asso- 
ciated with the greatest events of the history of 
Germany, France, and Northern Europe ; with 
the Rome of Caesar and Aurelian ; with the 
Rome of the Popes ; with the Reformation ; 
with the shadowy goblin lore and beautiful fairy 
tales of the twilight of Celtic civilization that 
have been evolved through centuries and have 
become the household stories of all enlightened 
lands ! 

A journey down the Rhine is like passing 
through wonderland ; wild stories, quaint stories, 
legendary and historic stories, are associated with 
every rood of ground from the Alps to the ocean. 
It is a region of the stories of two thousand years. The Rhine is the 
river of the poet ; its banks are the battle-fields of heroes ; its forests 
and villages the fairy lands of old. 



i6 



ZIGZAG JOURNEYS IN NORTHERN LANDS. 



When Rome was queen of the world, Caesar carried his eagles 
over the Rhine ; Titus sent a part of his army which had conquered 
Jerusalem to the Rhine; Julian erected a fortress on the Rhine; and 
Valentinian began the castle-building that was to go on for a thou- 
sand years. 

The period of the Goths, Huns, Celts, and Vandals came, — the 
conquerors of Rome ; and the Rhine was strewn with Roman ruins. 
Charlemagne cleared away the ruins, and began anew the castle-build- 




a ,;. 




INTRODUCING CHRISTIANITY INTO THE NORTH. 

ing. A Christian soldier in one of the legions that destroyed Jeru- 
salem and tore down the temple, first brought the Gospel to the 
Rhine. His name was Crescaitius. He was soon followed by mis- 
sionaries of the Cross. Christianity was established upon the Rhine 
soon after it entered Rome. , 

The great conquests of modern history are directly or indirectly 
associated with the wonderful river : Caesar, who conquered the world, 
crossed the Rhine ; Attila, who conquered the city of the Caesars ; 
Clovis, who founded the Christian religion in France ; and Charle- 
magne, who established the Christian church in Germany. Frederick 




CASTLE IN RHINE LAND. 



THE RIVER OF STORY AND SONG. 



19 



Barbarossa and Frederick the Great added lustre to its growing his- 
tory, and Napoleon gave a yet deeper coloring to its thrilling scenes. 

When the Northern nations shattered the Roman power, people 
imagined that the dismantled castles of the Rhine became the abodes 
of mysterious beings : spirits of the rocks, forests, fens ; strange 




TOWER OF RUDESHEIM ON THE RHINE. 



maidens of the red marshes ; enchanters, demons ; the streams were 
the abodes of lovely water nymphs ; the glens of the woods, of delight- 
ful fairies. 

Into these regions of shadow, mystery, of heroic history, of moral 
conflicts and Christian triumphs, it is always interesting to go. It is 



20 ZIGZAG JOURNEYS IN NORTHERN LANDS. 

especially interesting to the American traveller, for his form of Chris- 
tianity and republican principles came from the Rhine. Progress to 
him was cradled on the Rhine, like Moses on the Nile. In the Rhine 
lands Luther taught, and Robinson of Leyden lived and prayed ; and 
from those lands to-day comes the great emigration that is peopling 
the golden empire of America in the West. " I would be proud of the 
Rhine were I a German," said Longfellow. " I love rivers," said 
Victor Hugo ; " of all rivers I prefer the Rhine." 

It is our purpose in this story-telling volume to relate why the 
Zigzag Club was led to make the Rhine the subject of its winter 
evening study, and to give an account of an excursion that some of 
its members had made from Constance to Rotterdam and into the 
countries of the North Sea. 



" All hail, thou broad torrent, so golden and green, 
Ye castles and churches, ye hamlets serene, 
Ye cornfields, that wave in the breeze as it sweeps, 
Ye forests and ravines, ye towering steeps, 
Ye mountains e'er clad in the sun-illumed vine ! 
Wherever I go is my heart on the Rhine ! 

" I greet thee, O life, with a yearning so strong, 
In the maze of the dance, o'er the goblet and song. 
All hail, beloved race, men so honest and true, 
And maids who speak raptures with eyes of bright blue ! 
May success round your brows e'er its garlands entwine ! 
Wherever I go is my heart on the Rhine ! 

" On the Rhine is my heart, where affection holds sway ! 
On the Rhine is my heart, where encradled I lay, 
Where around me friends bloom, where I dreamt away youth, 
Where the heart of my love glows with rapture and truth ! 
May for me your hearts e'er the same jewels enshrine. 
Wherever I go is my heart on the Rhine ! " 

Wolfgang Muller. 



CHAPTER II. 



GHOST STORIES. 



The Zigzag Club again. — Some "Ghost" Stories. 




HE Academy had opened again. September again 
colored the leaves of the old elms of Yule. The 
Blue Hills, as lovely as when the Northmen beheld 
them nearly nine hundred years ago, were radiant 
with the autumn tinges of foliage and sky, changing 
from turquoise to sapphire in the intense twilight, 
and to purple as the shades of evening fell. 

The boys were back again, all except the graduating class, some 
of whom were at Harvard, Brown, and Yale. Master Lewis was in 
his old place, and Mr. Beal was again his assistant. 

The Zigzag Club was broken by the final departure of the grad- 
uating class. But Charlie Leland, William Clifton, and Herman 
Reed, who made a journey on the Rhine under the direction of Mr. 
Beal, had returned, and they had been active members of the school 
society known as the Club. 

We should say here, to make the narrative clear to those who have 
not read " Zigzag Journeys in Classic Lands " and " Zigzag Journeys 
in the Orient," that the boys of the Academy of Yule had been accus- 
tomed each year to form a society for the study of the history, geog- 
raphy, legends, and household stories of some chosen country, and 



2 2 ZIGZAG JOURNEYS IN NORTHERN LANDS. 

during the long summer vacation as many of the society as could do 
so, visited, under the direction of their teachers, the lands about which 
they had studied. This society was called the Zigzag Club, because 
it aimed to visit historic places without regard to direct routes of 
travel. It zigzagged in its travels from the associations of one his- 
toric story to another, and was influenced by the school text-book or 
the works of some pleasing author, rather than the guide-book. 

The Zigzag books have been kindly received ; * and we may here 
remark parenthetically that they do not aim so much to present narra- 
tives of travel as the histories, traditions, romances, and stories of 
places. They seek to tell stories at the places where the events oc- 
curred and amid the associations of the events that still remain. The 
Ziofzao- Club £o seeking what is old rather than what is new, and thus 
change the past tense of history to the present tense. 

Charlie Leland was seated one day on the piazza of the Academy, 
after school, reading Hawthorne's " Twice-Told Tales." Master 
Lewis presently took a seat beside him; and "Gentleman Jo," whom 
we introduced to our readers in " Zigzags in the Occident," was rest- 
ing on the steps near them. 

Gentleman Jo was the janitor. He was a relative of Master 
Lewis, and a very intelligent man. He had been somewhat disabled 
in military service in the West, and was thus compelled to accept a 
situation at Yule that was quite below his intelligence and personal 
worth. The boys loved and respected him, sought his advice often, 
and sometimes invited him to meetings of their Society. 

" Have you called together the Club yet ? " asked Master Lewis 
of Charlie, when the latter had ceased reading. 

" We had an informal meeting in my room last evening." 

" What is your plan of study ? " 

" We have none as yet," said Charlie. " We are to have a meeting 
next week for the election of officers, and for literary exercises we have 

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MOUNTAIN SCENERY IN SOUTHERN GERMANY. 



GHOST STORIES. 



25 



agreed to relate historic ghost stories. We asked Tommy Toby to be 
present, and he promised to give us for the occasion his version of 
' St. Dunstan and the Devil and the Six Boy Kings.' I hardly know 
what the story is about, but the title sounds interesting." 

".What made you choose ghost stories ? " asked Master Lewis, 
curiously. 

" You gave us Irving and Hawthorne to read in connection with 
our lessons on American literature. ' Rip Van Winkle,' ' Sleepy Hol- 
low,' and ' Twice-Told Tales ' turned our thoughts to popular super- 
stitions ; and, as they made me chairman, I thought it an interesting 
subject just now to present to the Club." 

" More interesting than profitable, I am thinking. Still, the subject 
might be made instructive and useful as well as amusing." 

" Did you ever see a ghost ? " asked Charlie of Gentleman Jo, after 
Master Lewis left them. 

" We thought we had one in our house, when I was living with my 
sister in Hingham, before the war. Hingham used to be famous for 
its ghost stories ; an old house without its ghost was thought to lack 
historic tone and finish." 

Gentleman Jo took a story-telling attitude, and a number of the 
pupils gathered around him. 

GENTLEMAN JO'S GHOST STORY. 

I shall never forget the scene of excitement, when one morning Biddy, our 
domestic, entered the sitting-room, her head bobbing, her hair flying, and her 
cap perched upon the top of her head, and exclaimed : " Wurrah ! I have seen 
a ghoust, and it 's lave the hoose I must. Sich a night ! I 'd niver pass anither 
the like of it for the gift o' the hoose. Bad luck to ye, an' the hoose is haunted 
for sure." 

" Why, Biddy, what have you seen ? " asked my sister, in alarm. 

" Seen ? An' sure I did n't see nothin'. I jist shet me eyes and hid mesilf 
under the piller. But it was awful. An' the way it clanked its chain ! O mur- 
ther ! " 



ZIGZAG JOURNEYS IN NORTHERN LANDS. 



This last remark was rather startling. Spirits that clank their chains have 
a very unenviable reputation. 

"Pooh!" said my uncle. "What you heard was nothing but rats." Then, 
turning to me, he asked : " Where is the steel trap ? " 
" Stolen, I think," said I. " I set it day before 
yesterday, and when I went to look to it it was gone." 
" An' will ye be givin' me the wages ? " said 
Biddy, "afore I bid ye good-marnin' ? " 

" Going ?" asked my sister, in astonishment. 
"An' sure I am," answered Biddy. "Ye don't 
think I 'd be afther stayin' in a house that 's haunted, 
do ye ? " 

In a few minutes I heard the front door bang, 
and, looking out, saw our late domestic, with a budget' 
on each arm, trudging off as though her ideas were of 
a very lively character. 

A colored woman, recently from the South, took 
Biddy's place that very day, and was assigned the 
same room in which the latter had slept. 

We had invited company for that evening, and 
some of the guests remained to a very late hour. 

The sound of voices subsided as one after an- 
other departed, and we were left quietly chatting with 
the few who remained. Suddenly there was a mys- 
terious movement at one of the back parlor doors, and 
we saw two white eyes casting furtive glances into the 
room. 

" What 's wanted ? " demanded my sister, of the 
object at the door. 

Our new domestic appeared in her night clothes. 
" O missus, I 've seen de debble, I done have," was her first exclamation. 
This, certainly, was not a sight that we should wish any one to see in our 
house, as desirable as a dignified spectre might have been. 

" Pooh ! " said my sister. " What a silly creature ! Go back to bed and to 

sleep, and do not shame us by appearing before company in your night clothes." 

" I don't keer nothing about my night clothes," she replied, with spirit. 

" Jes' go to de room and git de things dat belong to me, an' I '11 leave, and never 

disturb you nor dis house any more. It 's dreadful enough to be visited by dead 




"I'VE SEEN DE DEBBLE.' 



GHOST STORIES. 



27 



folks, any way, but when de spirits comes rattling a chain it 's a dreadful bad 
sign, you may be sure." 

" What did you see ? " asked I. 

"See? I didn't see nothin'. T was bad enough to hear it. I would n't 
hav' seen it for de world. I '11 go quick — jest as soon as you gets de things." 

We made her a bed on a lounge below stairs. The next morning she took 
her bundles and made a speedy exit. 

We had a maiden aunt who obtained a livelihood by visiting her relations. 
On the morning when our last domestic left she arrived, bag and baggage, greatly 
to our annoyance. We said nothing about the disturbances to her, but agreed 
among ourselves that she should sleep in the haunted chamber. 

That night, about twelve o'clock, the household were awakened by a piercing 
scream above stairs. All was silent for a few minutes, when the house echoed 
with the startling cry of "Murder! Murder/ MurDER ! " The accent was very 
strong on the last syllable in the last two words, as though the particular force 
of the excla- 
mation was 
therein con- 
tained. 

I hurried 
to the cham- 
ber and asked 
at the door 
what was the 
matter. 

"I have 
seen an ap- 
paratus," ex- 
claimed m y 
aunt. u Murder! Oh, wait a minute. I 'm a dead woman." 

She unlocked the door in a delirious way and descended to the sitting-room, 
where she sat sobbing for a long time, declaring that she was a dead woman. 
She had heard his chain rattle. 

And the next morning she likewise left. 

We now felt uneasy ourselves, and wondered what marvel the following night 
would produce. I examined the room carefully during the day, but could dis- 
cover no traces of anything unusual. 

That night we were again awakened by noises that proceeded from the same 




2 8 ZIGZAG JOURNEYS IN NORTHERN LANDS. 

room. They seemed like the footfalls of a person whose feet were clad in iron. 
Then followed sounds like a scuffle. 

I rose, and, taking a light, went to the chamber with shaky knees and a pal- 
pitating heart. I listened before the door. Presently there was a movement in 
the room as of some one dragging a chain. My courage began to ebb. I was 
half resolved to retreat at once, and on the morrow advise the family to quit the 
premises. 

But my better judgment at last prevailed, and, opening the door with a ner- 
vous hand, I saw an " apparatus " indeed. 

Our old cat, that I had left accidentally in the room, had in her claws a large 
rat, to whose leg was attached the missing trap, and to the trap a short chain. 

" I knew the story would end in that way," said Charlie. " But that 
is not a true colonial ghost story, if it did happen in old Hingham." 

The sun was going down beyond the Waltham Hills. The shad- 
ows of the maples were lengthening upon the lawns, and the chirp 
of the crickets was heard in the old walls. Charlie seemed quite dis- 
satisfied with Gentleman Jo's story. The latter noticed it. 

" My story does not please you ? " said Gentleman Jo. 

" No ; I am in a different mood to-night." 

Master Lewis smiled. 

Just then a quiet old lady, who had charge of a part of the rooms 
in the Academy, appeared, a bunch of keys jingling by her side, much 
like the wife of a porter of a lodge in an English castle. 

" Grandmother Golden," said Charlie, — the boys were accustomed 
to address the chatty, familiar old lady in this way, — "you have seen 
ghosts, have n't you ? What is the most startling thing that ever hap- 
pened in your life ? " 

Grandmother Golden had seated herself in one of the easy piazza 
chairs. After a few minutes she was induced to follow Gentleman Jo 
in an old-time story. 



GHOST STORIES. 



2 9 



GRANDMOTHER GOLDEN'S ONLY GHOST STORY. 



The custom in old times, when a person died, was for some one to sit in the 
room and watch with the dead body in the night, as long as it remained in the 
house. A good, pious custom it 
was, in my way of thinking, 
though it is not common now. 

Jemmy Robbin was a poor 
old man. They used to call him 
"Auld Robin Gray," after the 
song, and he lived and died alone. 
His sister Dorothea — Dorothy 
she was commonly called — -took 
charge of the house after his 
death, and she sent for Grand- 
father Golden to watch one night 
with the corpse. 

We were just married, grand- 
father and I, and he wanted I 
should watch with him, for com- 
pany ; and as I could not bear 
that he should be out of my sight 
a minute when I eould help it, 
I consented. I was young and 
foolish then, and very fond of 
grandfather, — we were in our 
honeymoon, you know. 

We did n't go to the house at 
a very early hour of the evening ; 
it was n't customary for the watch- 
ers to go until it was nearly time 
for the family to retire. 

In the course of the evening 
there came to the house a traveller, — a poor Irishman, — an old man, evidently 
honest, but rather simple, who asked Dorothy for a lodging. 

He said he had travelled far, was hungry, weary, and footsore, and, if turned 
away, knew not where he could go. 




GRANDMOTHER GOLDEN. 



30 ZIGZAG JOURNEYS IN NORTHERN LANDS. 

It was a stormy night, and the good heart of Dorothy was touched at the 
story of the stranger, so she told him that he might stay. 

After he had warmed himself and eaten the food she prepared for him, she 
asked him to retire, saying that she expected company. Instead of going with 
him to show where he was to sleep, as she ought to have done, she directed him 
to his room, furnished him with a light, and bade him good-night. 

The Irishman, as I have said, was an old man and not very clear-headed. 
Forgetting his directions, and mistaking the room, he entered the chamber where 
lay the body of poor Jemmy Robbin. In closing the door the light was blown 
out. He found there was what seemed to be some other person in the bed, and, 
supposing him a live bedfellow, quietly lay down, covered himself with a coun- 
terpane, and soon fell asleep. 

About ten o'clock grandfather and I entered the room. We just glanced at 
the bed. What seemed to be the corpse lay there, as it should. Then grand- 
father sat down in an easy-chair, and I, like a silly hussy, sat down in his lap. 

We were having a nice time, talking about what we would do and how 
happy we should be when we went to housekeeping, when, all at once, I heard 
a snore. It came from the bed. 

"What 's that ?" said I. 

"That?" said grandfather. "Mercy! that was Jemmy Robbin." 

We listened nervously, but heard nothing more, and at last concluded that 
it was the wind that had startled us. I gave grandfather a generous kiss, and 
it calmed his agitation wonderfully. 

We grew cheerful, laughed at our fright, and were chatting away again as 
briskly as before, when there was a noise in bed. We were silent in a moment. 
The counterpane certainly moved. Grandfather's eyes almost started from his 
head. The next instant there was a violent sneeze. 

I jumped as if shot. Grandfather seemed petrified. He attempted to 
ejaculate something, but was scared by the sound of his own voice. 

" Mercy ! " says I. 

" What was it ? " said grandfather. 

" Let 's go and call Dorothy," said I. 

" She would be frightened out of her senses." 

" I shall die with fright if I hear anything more," I said, half dead already 
with fear. 

Just then a figure started up in the bed. 

"And wha — and wha — and wha — " mumbled the object, gesticulating. 

I sprang for the door, grandfather after me, and, reaching the bottom of the 



GHOST STORIES. 



3 1 




stairs at one bound, gave vent to my terrors by a scream, 
that, for aught I know, could have been heard a mile dis- 
tant. 

Both of us ran for Dorothy's room. There was a 
sound of feet and a loud ejaculation of " Holy Peter ! 
The man is dead ! " 

" It 's comin'," shouted grandfather, and, sure enough, 
there were footsteps on the stairs. 

" Dorothy ! Dorothy ! " I screamed. 
Dorothy, startled from her 
sleep, came rushing to the entry in 
her night-dress. 

" I have seen a ghost, Doro- 
thy," said I. 
"A what?" 

" I have seen the awfullest — " 
" It 's comin'," said grandfather, 
" Holy Peter ! " said an object in the 
darkness. " There 's a dead man in the 
bed ! " 

" Why, it 's that Irishman," said Dor- 
othy, as she heard the voice. 

''What Irishman?" asked I. "A 
murdered one ? " 

"No; he — there — I suspect that 
he mistook his room and went to bed 
with poor Jemmy." 

The mystery now became quite clear. Grandfather looked anything but 
pleased, and declared that he would rather have seen a ghost than to have been 
so foolishly frightened. 




" Is that all ? " asked Charlie. 

" That is all," said Grandmother Golden. " Just hear the crickets 
chirp. Sounds dreadful mournful." 

" I have been twice disappointed," said Charlie. " Perhaps, Master 
Lewis, you can tell us a story before we go in. Something fine and 
historic." 



32 ZIGZAG JOURNEYS IN NORTHERN LANDS. 

" In harmony with books you are reading ? " 

" And the spirit of Nature," added Charlie. 

" How fine that there boy talks," said Grandmother Golden. " Get 
to be a minister some day, I reckon." 

" How would the True Story of Macbeth answer? " asked Master 
Lewis. 

"That would be excellent: Shakspeare. The greatest ghost story 
ever written." 

" And if you don't mind, I '11 just wait and hear that story, too," 
said good-humored Grandmother Golden. 

MASTER LEWIS'S STORY OF MACBETH. 

More than eight hundred years ago, when the Roman wall divided England 
from Scotland, when the Scots and Picts had become one people, and when the 
countries of Northern Europe were disquieted by the ships of the Danes, there 
was a king of the Scots, named Duncan. He was a very old man, and long, 
long after he was dead, certain writers discovered that he was a very good man. 
He had two sons, named Malcolm and Donaldbain. 

Now, when Duncan was enfeebled by years, a great fleet of Danes, under 
the command of Suene, King of Denmark and Norway, landed an army on the 
Scottish coast. Duncan was unable to take the field against the invaders in 
person, and his sons were too young for such a trust. He had a kinsman, who 
had proved himself a brave soldier, named Macbeth. He placed this kinsman 
at the head of his troops ; and certain writers, long, long after the event, discov- 
ered that this kinsman appointed a relation of his own, named Banquo, to assist 
him. Macbeth and Banquo defeated the Danes in a hard-fought battle, and then 
set out for a town called Forres to rest and to make merry over their victory. 

A thane was the governor of a province. The father of Macbeth was the 
thane of Glamis. 

There lived at Forres three old women, whom the people believed to be 
witches. When these old women heard that Macbeth was coming to the place 
they went out to meet him, and awaited his coming on a great heath. The first 
old woman saluted him on his approach with these words : "All hail, Macbeth 
— hail to thee, thane of Glamis ! " 

And the second : " All hail, Macbeth — hail to thee, thane of Cawdor ! " 



GHOST STORIES. 33 

And the third : "All hail, Macbeth — thou shalt be king of Scotland ! " 

Macbeth was very much astonished at these salutations ; he expected to 
become thane of Glamis some day, and he aspired to be king of Scotland, but 
he had never anticipated such a disclosure of his destiny as this. The old 
women told Banquo that he would become the father of kings, and then they 
vanished, according to Shakspeare, " into the air." 

Macbeth and Banquo rode on very much elevated in spirits, when one met 
them who informed them that the thane of Glamis was dead. The melancholy 
event was not unwelcome to Macbeth ; his spirits rose to a still higher pitch ; 
one thing that the old women had foretold had speedily come to pass, — he was 
indeed thane of Glamis. 

As Macbeth drew near the town, a glittering court party came out to wel- 
come the army. They hailed Macbeth as thane of Cawdor. He was much 
surprised at this, and asked the meaning. They told him that the thane of 
Cawdor had rebelled, and that the king had bestowed the province upon him. 
Macbeth was immensely delighted at this intelligence, feeling quite sure that 
the rest of the prophecy would come to pass, and that he would one day wear 
the diadem. 

Now the wife of Macbeth was a very wicked woman, and the prophecy of 
the witches quite turned her head, so that she could think of nothing but be- 
coming queen. She was much concerned lest the nature of her husband should 
prove "too full of the milk of human kindness" to come to the "golden round." 
So she decided that should an opportunity offer itself for an interview with the 
king, she would somewhat assist in the fulfilment of the last prophecy. 

Then Macbeth made a great feast in the grand old castle of Inverness, and 
invited the king. Lady Macbeth thought this a golden opportunity for accom- 
plishing the decrees of destiny, and when the old king arrived she told Macbeth 
that the time had come for him to strike boldly for the crown. As Shakspeare 
says : — 

"Macbeth. My dearest love, Duncan comes here to-night. 

Lady M. And when goes hence ? 

Macbeth. To-morrow. 

Lady M. O never shall sun that morrow see." 

When this dreadful woman had laid her plot for the taking off of Duncan, 
she went to the banquet-hall and greeted the royal guest with a face all radiant 
with smiles, and called him sweet names, and told him fine stories, and brimmed 
his goblet with wine, so that he thought, we doubt not, that she was the most 
charming creature in all the world. 

3 



ZIGZAG JOURNEYS IN NORTHERN LANDS. 



It was a stormy night, that of the banquet ; it rained, it thundered, and 
the wind made dreadful noises in the forests, which events, we have noticed in 
the stories of the old writers, were apt to occur in early times when something 
was about to happen. We are also informed that the owls 
hooted, which seems probable, as owls were quite plenty in 
those days. 

Duncan was conducted to a chamber, which had been 
prepared for him in great state, when the feast was done. 
Before retiring he sent to " his most kind host- 
ess " a large diamond as a present ; he then fell 
asleep " in measureless content." 
When all was still in the 
castle Lady Macbeth told her 
husband that the hour for the 





deed had come. He hesitated, and 
reminded her of the consequences 
if he should fail. She taunted him 
as being a coward, and told him to 
" screw his courage up to the stick- 
ing-place, and he would not fail." 
Then he took his dagger, and, ac- 
cording to Shakspeare, made a long 
speech over it, a speech which, I 
am sorry to say, stage-struck boys 
and girls have been mouthing in a 
most unearthly manner ever since the days of Queen Bess. 

Macbeth " screwed his courage up to the sticking-place " indeed, and then 
and there was the end of the life of Duncan. When the deed was done, he put 
his poniard into the hand of a sentinel, who was sleeping in the king's room, 
under the influence of wine that Lady Macbeth had drugged. 

When the meal was prepared on the following morning, Macbeth and his 
lady pretended to be much surprised that the old king did not get up. Macduff, 
the thane of Fife, who was one of the royal party, decided at last to go to the 
king's apartment to see if the king was well. He returned speedily in great 




WITCHES. 



GHOST STORIES. 37 

excitement, as one may well suppose. As Shakspeare continues the interesting 
narrative : — 

"Macduff. O horror ! horror! horror! 
Macbeth. What 's the matter ? 

Macd. Confusion now hath made his masterpiece. Most sacrilegious murder hath broke 
ope the Lord's anointed temple and stole thence the life o' the building. 
Macb. ' What is 't you say ? the life ? " 

Macbeth appeared to be greatly shocked by the event, and, with a great show 
of fury and many hot words, he' despatched the sentinels of the king, whom he 
feigned to believe had done the deed. Lady Macbeth fell upon the floor, pre- 
tending, of all things in the world for a woman of such mettle, to faint. 

So Macbeth came to the throne. But he remembered that the weird women 
had foretold that Banquo should become the father of kings, which made him 
fear for the stability of his throne. He thought to correct the tables of destiny 
somewhat, and so he induced two desperate men to do by Banquo as he had 
done by Duncan. The spirit of Banquo was not quiet like Duncan's, but haunted 
him, and twice appeared to him at a great feast that he gave to the thanes. 

Now Banquo had a son named Fleance, whom the murderers were instructed 
to kill, but who, on the death of his father, eluded his enemies and fled to France. 
The story-writers say that the line of Stuart was descended from this son. 

Macbeth, like all wicked people who accomplish their ends, was very unhappy. 
He lived in continual fear lest some of his relations should clo by him as he had 
done by Duncan and Banquo. He became so miserable at last that he decided 
to consult the witches who had foretold his elevation, to hear what they would 
say of the rest of his life. 

He found them in a dark cave, in the middle of which was a caldron boiling. 
The old women had put into the pot a toad, the toe of a frog, the wool of a bat, 
an adder's tongue, an owl's wing, and many other things, of which you will find 
the list in Shakspeare. Now and then they walked around the pot, repeating a 
very sensible ditty : — 

" Double, double, toil and trouble ; 
Fire, burn ; and, caldron, bubble." 

They at last called up an apparition, who said that Macbeth should never be 
overcome by his enemies until Birnam wood should come to the castle of Dunsi- 
nane, the royal residence, to attack it. 

" Macbeth shall never vanquished be until 
Great Birnam wood to high Dunsinane hill 
Shall come against him." 



38 ZIGZAG JOURNEYS IN NORTHERN LANDS. 

Now, Birnam wood was twelve miles from Dunsinane (pronounced Dunsnan), 
and Macbeth thought that the language was a mystical way of saying that he 
always would be exempt from danger. 

Malcolm, the son of Duncan, the rightful heir to the throne, was a man of 
spirit, and he went to England to solicit aid of the good King Edward the Con- 
fessor against Macbeth. Macduff, having quarrelled with the king, joined Mal- 
colm, and the English king, thinking favorably of their cause, sent a great army 
into Scotland to discrown Macbeth. 

When this army reached Birnam wood, on its way to Dunsinane, Macduff 
ordered the men each to take the bough of a tree, and to hold it before him as 
he marched to the attack, that Macbeth might not be able to discover the num- 
ber and the strength of the assailants. Thus Birnam wood came against Dunsi- 
nane. When Macbeth saw the sight his courage failed him, and he saw that his 
hour had come. A battle ensued, in which he was conquered and killed. 

Such is the story, and it seems a pity to spoil so good a story ; but I fear 
that Shakspeare made his wonderful plot of much the same " stuff that dreams 
are made of." 

Duncan was a grandson of Malcolm II. on his father's side, and Macbeth 
was a grandson of the same king, though on the side of his mother. On the 
death of Malcolm, in 1033, each claimed the throne. Macbeth, according to rule 
of Scottish succession, had the best claim, but Duncan obtained the power. 
Macbeth was naturally dissatisfied, and the insolence of Malcolm, the son of 
Duncan, who placed himself at the head of an intriguing party in Northumber- 
land, changed his dissatisfaction to resentment, and he slew the king. He once 
had a dream, which he deemed remarkable, in which three old women met him 
and hailed him as thane of Cromarty, thane of Moray, and finally as king. 
Upon this light basis genius has built one of the most powerful tales of super- 
stition in the language. 

Duncan was slain near Elgin, and not in the castle of Inverness. Malcolm 
avenged his father's death, slaying Macbeth at a place called Lumphanan, and 
not at Dunsinane, as recorded in the play. 

And then Sir Walter Scott finds that "Banquo and his son Fleance" never 
had any real existence, which leaves no material out of which to construct a 
ghost. 

" So there were no witches, after all ? " said Charlie. 
" No ; no witches." 



GHOST STORIES. 

" No Banquo ? " 

" No Banquo." 

" No ghost ? " 

" No ghost. Banquo never lived." 

" Is that all ? " asked Grandmother Golden. 

" That is all." 



39 



CHAPTER III. 

A STORY-TELLING JOURNEY. 

The Club Reorganized. — The Rhine and the Lands of the Baltic. — Tommy 
Toby's Story of the Six Boy Kings. 




T the first formal meeting of the Club Charlie Le- 
land was chosen President. He was the intellectual 
leader among the boys, now that the old Class had 
gone ; he was a lad of good principles, bright, gen- 
erous, and popular. As may be judged from the 
somewhat discursive dialogue on the piazza, he 
had a subject well matured in his mind for the literary exercises of the 
Club. 

" We all like stories," he said, " and the Rhine lands are regions of 
stories, as are the countries of the Baltic Sea. The tales and tradi- 
tions of the Rhine would give us a large knowledge of German history, 
and, in fact, of the great empire of Europe, over which Charlemagne 
ruled, and which now is divided into the kingdoms of Northern 
Europe. The stories of haunted castles, spectres, water nymphs, syl- 
van deities, and fairies, if shapes of fancy, are full of instruction, and 
I know of no subject so likely to prove intensely interesting as the 
Rhine and the Baltic ; and I would like to propose it to the Club for 
consideration, although, owing to my position as President, I do not 
make a formal motion that it be adopted." 

Charlie's picturesque allusion to the myths of the Rhine and the 
Baltic seemed to act like magic on the minds of the Club ; and a formal 




THE GRAND-DUCAL CASTLE. SCHWERIN. 



A STORY-TELLING JOURNEY 



43 




ANCIENT GERMAN HOUSES. 



motion that the Rhine and the Baltic be the subject of future literary 
meetings was at once made, seconded, and unanimously adopted. 



44 ZIGZAG JOURNEYS IN NORTHERN LANDS. 

Master Lewis had entered the room quietly while the business of 
the Club was being thus happily and unanimously carried forward. 
The boys had asked him to be present at the meeting, and to give 
them his opinions of their plans. 

" I think," he said, " that your choice of a subject for your literary 
evenings is an excellent one, but I notice a tendency to place more 
stress on the fine old fictions of Germany and the North than upon 
actual history. These fictions for the most part grew out of the dis- 
turbed consciences of bad men in ignorant and barbarous times. They 
were shapes of the imagination." 

He continued : — 

" Let me prepare your minds a little for a proper estimate of these 
alluring and entertaining stories." 

MASTER LEWIS ON POPULAR SUPERSTITIONS. 

The front of Northumberland House, England, used to be ornamented with 
the bronze statue of a lion, called Percy. A humorist, wishing to produce a 
sensation, placed himself in front of the building, one day, and, assuming an 
attitude of astonishment, exclaimed : — 

" It wags, it wags ! " 

His eyes were riveted on the statue, to which the bystanders readily 
observed that the exclamation referred. Quite a number of persons collected, 
each one gazing on the bronze figure, expecting to see the phenomenon. Their 
imagination supplied the desired marvel, and presently a street full of people 
fancied that they could see the lion Percy wag his tail ! 

An old distich runs something as follows: — 

" Who believe that there are witches, there the witches are ; 
Who believe there aren't no witches, are n't no witches there." 

There is much more good sense than poetry in these lines. The marvels 
of superstition are witnessed chiefly by those who believe in them. 

The sights held as supernatural are usually not more wonderful than those 
that arise from a disordered imagination. The spectres of demonology are not 
more fearful than those shapes of fancy produced by opium and dissipation ; and 




ANCIENT RELIGIOUS RITES OF THE PEASANTS. 



A STORY-TELLING JOURNEY. 47 

the visions of the necromancer are not more wonderful than those that arise 
from a fever, or even from a troubled sleep. 

Yet it is a fact, and a very singular one, that, however at random the fancies 
of unhealthy intellects may appear on ordinary subjects, those fancies obtain a 
greater or less credit when they touch upon supernatural things. Instances of 
monomaniacs (persons insane on a single subject) who have imagined things 
quite as marvellous as the most superstitious, but whose illusions have been 
treated with the greatest ridicule, might be cited almost without limit. 

I once knew of an elderly lady, who thought that she was a goose. Making 
a nest in one corner of the room, she put in it a few kitchen utensils, which 
she supposed to be eggs, and began to incubate. She found the process of in- 
cubation, in her case, a very slow one ; and her friends, fearing for her health, 
called in a doctor. He endeavored to reason with her, but she only replied 
to his philosophy by stretching out her neck, which she seemed to think was a 
remarkably long one, and hissing. The old lady had a set of gilt-band china 
cups and saucers, which, in her eyes, had been a sort of household gods. The 
knowledge of the fact coming to the ears of the physician, he advised her friends 
to break the precious treasures, one after another, before her eyes. The plan 
worked admirably. She immediately left her nest, and ran to the rescue of the 
china, and the excitement brought her back to her sense of the proprieties of 
womanhood. 

Another old lady, who also resided in a neighboring town, fancied she had 
become a veritable teapot. She used to silence those who attempted to reason 
with her by the luminous argument, " See, here (crooking one arm at her side) 
isthe handle, and there (thrusting upward her other arm) is the spout!" What 
could be more convincing than that ? 

Another lady, whose faculties had begun to decline, thought her toes were 
made of glass ; and a comical figure she cut when she went abroad, picking up 
and putting down her feet with the greatest caution, lest she should injure her 
precious toes. 

Now these cases provoke a smile ; but, had these ancient damsels fancied 
that they were bewitched, or that they were haunted, or that they held commu- 
nion with the spirits of the invisible world, instead of exciting laughter and pity, 
they would have occasioned no small excitement among the simple-minded 
people of the neighborhood in which each resided. 

A young Scottish farmer, having been to a fair, was riding homeward on 
horseback one evening over a lonely road. 

He had been drinking rather freely at the fair, according to the custom, and 
his head was far from steady, and his conscience far from easy. 



48 ZIGZAG JOURNEYS IN NORTHERN LANDS. 

It was moonlight, and he began to reflect what a dreadful thing it would be 
to meet a ghost. His fears caused him to look very carefully about him. As 
he was approaching the old church in Teviotdale, he saw a figure in white stand- 
ing on the wall of the churchyard, by the highway. 

The sight gave him a start, but he continued his journey, hoping that it was 
his imagination that had invested some natural object with a ghostly shape. 
But the nearer he approached, the more ghostlike and mysterious did the figure 
appear. 

He stopped, hesitating what to do, and then concluded to ride slowly. There 
was no other way to his home than the one he was following. He knew well 
enough that his mind was somewhat unsettled by drinking, and what he saw 
might, after all, he thought, be nothing but an illusion. He would approach the 
object slowly and cautiously, and, when very near it, would put spurs to his horse 
and dash by. 

As he drew near, however, the figure showed unmistakable signs of life, 
gesticulating mysteriously, and uttering gibberish, that, although odd, sounded 
surprisingly human. 

It was a ghostly night : the dim moonlight filled the silent air, and the land- 
scape was flecked with shadows; it was a ghostly place, — Teviotdale church- 
yard ; and, in perfect keeping with the time and place, stood the figure, doing as 
a ghost is supposed to do, — talking gibberish to the moon. 

The young man's nerves were quite unstrung as he put spurs to his horse 
for a rush by the object of his fright. As he dashed past, his hair almost brist- 
ling with apprehension, the supposed phantom leaped upon the back of the 
horse and clasped the frightened man about his waist. His apprehensions were 
startling enough before, but now he was wrought to the highest pitch of terror. 

He drove his spurs into his horse, and the animal flew over the earth like a 
phantom steed. Such riding never before was seen in the winding road of 
Teviotdale. 

In a wonderfully short time the reeking animal stood trembling and panting 
before his master's gate. The young man called lustily for his servants, who, 
coming out, were commanded in frantic tones to "Tak aff the ghaist, tak aff the 
ghaist !" And "tak aff the ghaist" they did, which proved to be a young lady 
well known in Teviotdale for her unfortunate history. 

She had married an estimable young man, to whom she was very strongly 
attached, and the brightest worldly prospects seemed opening before her. Her 
husband was taken ill, and suddenly died. She had confided in him so fondly 
that the world lost its attractions for her on his decease, and she moodily dwelt 
upon her misfortune until she became deranged. 



A STORY-TELLING JOURNEY. 49 

Her husband was buried in Teviotdale churchyard, and she was in the habit 
of stealing away from her friends at night, to weep over his grave. These melan- 
choly visits had the effect of giving a new impetus to her malady, making her 
for a time the victim of any fancy that chanced to enter her mind. 

On the night of our story she imagined that the young farmer was her hus- 
band, and awaited his approach with great exhilaration of spirits, determined to 
give him an affectionate greeting. 

The fright came near costing the young man his life. He was taken from 
his saddle to his bed, where he lay for weeks prostrated by a high nervous 
fever. 

An eminent writer, after relating the above authentic story, remarks : — 

" If this woman had dropped from the horse unobserved by the rider, it 
would have been very hard to convince the honest farmer that he had not actu- 
ally performed a part of his journey with a ghost behind him." 

True. Teviotdale churchyard would have obtained the reputation of being 
haunted, and would have been a terror to weak-minded people for many years 
to come. 

The ignorant and simple are not alone subject to illusions of fancy. The 
great and learned Pascal, than whom France has produced no more worthy 
philosopher, believed that an awful chasm yawned by his side, into which he was 
in danger of being thrown. This dreadful vision, with other fancies as gloomy, 
cast a shadow over an eventful period of his life, and gave a dark coloring to 
certain of his writings. Yet Pascal, on most subjects, was uncommonly sound 
in judgment. How unfavorable might have been the influence, had his dis- 
order assumed a different form, and placed before him the delusion of a ghost ! 

Before giving credit to stories of supernatural events, even from sources that 
seem to be trustworthy, I hope my young friends will consider duly how liable 
to error are an unhealthy mind and an excited imagination. Every man is not a 
knave or a cheat who claims to have witnessed unnatural phenomena, but the 
judgment of very excellent persons is liable to be infected by illusions of the 
imagination. 

I do not say that we may not receive impressions from the spiritual world. 
As the geologist, the botanist, the chemist, sees things in nature that the un- 
schooled and undeveloped do not see, so it may be that a spiritually educated 
mind may know more of the spiritual world than the gross and selfish mind. I 
will not enlarge upon this topic or discuss this question ; it might not be 
proper for me so to do. 

4 



5o 



ZIGZAG JOURNEYS IN NORTHERN LANDS. 



Master Lewis had aimed to make clear to the boys that it is easy 
to start a superstitious story, and to suggest that such stories in igno- 



rant times became legends. 




OLD FORTRESS ON THE RHINE. 



" I propose," said Willie Clifton, " that the first seven meetings of 
the Club be devoted to the Rhine." 

" We might call this series of meetings Seven Nights on the Rhine" 
added Herman Reed. 

" The old members of the Club who made the Rhine journey with 
Mr. Beal might give us an account of that journey," suggested one of 
the new boys. 



A S TOR Y- TELLING JO URNE Y. 5 I 

The plans suggested by these remarks met with approval, and a 
committee was appointed to arrange the literary exercises for seven 
meetings of the Club, to be known as Seven Nights on the Rhine. 

The literary exercises for the present evening consisted of the rela- 
tion of historic ghost stories, chiefly by members of the old Club. 
Among these were the Province House Stories of Hawthorne, the 
tradition of Mozart's Requiem, the Cock Lane Ghost, and several 
incidents from Scott's novels. 

The principal story, however, was given by Tommy Toby, an old 
member of the Club, and a graduate of the Academy. 



TOMMY TOBY'S STORY OF ST. DUNSTAN AND THE DEVIL 
AND THE SIX BOY KINGS. 

A splendid court had Athelstane, and foreign princes came there to be 
educated. Among these princes was Louis, the son of Charles the Simple, 
of France, who, by his long residence in England, obtained the pretty name of 
Louis d 'Outremer. 

Splendid weddings were celebrated there. The king married one of his 
sisters to the King of France, another to the Emperor of Germany, another to 
Hugo the Great, Count of Paris, and another to the Duke of Aquitaine. 

After the fight with the Cornish men, all of the land was at peace for many 
years, and the nobility became very scholarly and the people very polite. 

Athelstane had a favorite, a friar, who made more mischief in his day and 
generation than any other man. This man is known in history by the name of 
St. Dunstan. 

When Dunstan was a boy, he was taken very ill of a fever. One night, being 
delirious, he got up from his bed, and walked to Glastonbury church, which was 
then repairing, and ascended the scaffolds and went all over the building ; and 
because he did not tumble off and break his neck, people said that he had per- 
formed the feat under the influence of inspiration, being directed by an angel. 

This was called Dunstan's first miracle. 

When he recovered from the fever, and heard of the miracle that he was said 
to have wrought, he was greatly pleased, and thought to turn the good opinion 
of people to his own advantage by performing other miracles. 



ZIGZAG JOURNEYS IN NORTHERN LANDS. 

So he made a harp that played in the wind, — now soft, now loud ; now 
sweet, now solemn. He said that the harp played itself. The people heard the 
sounds, full of seeming expression, as though touched by airy fingers, and, as 
they could not discredit the evidence of their own ears, they too reported that 
the harp played itself. And great was the fame of Dunstan's harp. 

But Dunstan, according to old history, became a very bad man ; so bad that 
I cannot tell you the worst things that he did. He discovered his true char- 
acter at last, notwithstanding his sweetly playing harp. 

He pretended to be a magician. Now a magician, in those old times, was 
one who was supposed to know things beyond the reach of common minds, who 
pretended to calculate the influence of the stars on a person's destiny, and who 
understood the effects of poisonous vegetables and minerals. The Saxon 
magicians were chiefly nobles and monks, and all of their great secrets which 
are worth knowing are now understood as simple matters of science, even by 
schoolboys. 

Athelstane's conscience must have been rather restless, I fancy, concerning 
young Edwin, his brother, whom he caused to be drowned ; and people with 
unquiet conscience are usually very superstitious. At any rate, he made a 
bosom friend of Dunstan, after the latter took up the black art, and became 
greatly interested in magic, much to the sorrow of the people. 

At last a party- of the king's friends resolved that the bad influence of the 
wily prelate should come to an end. They waylaid him one dark night, in an 
unfrequented place, and, binding him hand and foot, threw him into a miry 
marsh. But the water was shallow, and Dunstan kept his nose above the mire, 
and, after shouting lustily for help, and floundering about for a long time, he 
succeeded in getting out, to make a great deal of noise and trouble in the world, 
and we have some strange stories to tell you about him yet. 

Athelstane died in the year 940, and he was succeeded upon the throne by 
his half-brother, Edmund, who was the first of the six boy kings. 

Edmund was eighteen years of age when he took his place on the honorable 
Saxon throne of Alfred the Great. He was a high-spirited young man, warm- 
hearted and brave. He conquered Cumberland from the Ancient Britons, and 
protected his kingdom against the fierce sea-kings of the North. Like his great 
ancestor, King Alfred, he was fond of learning and art. He improved and 
adorned public places and buildings. He made a very elegant appearance, and 
held a showy court, and they called him the Magnificent. 

But Edmund was fond of convivial suppers, and used himself to drink deeply 
of wine. He lived fast, and his friends lived fast, though they appeared to live 
very happily and merrily. 



A STORY-TELLING JOURNEY. 



53 



But young men given to festive suppers and to wine are not apt to make a 
long history ; and the history of Edmund the Magnificent, the first boy king, 
was a short one. 

Edmund was succeeded in the year 946 by Edred, his brother, a well-meaning 
youth, who was the second of the six boy kings of England. 

Dunstan had become abbot of Glastonbury Abbey, the church where he 
performed the miracle when he was sick of the fever. He was very ambitious 
to meddle in affairs of state, but his bad name had weakened his influence with 
Edmund, and it seemed likely to do the same with well-intentioned Edred. He 
desired to 



create a pub- 
lic impres- 
sion again 
that he was 
a saint. 

He re- 
tired to a 
cell and 
there spent 
his time 
w o r k i n g 
very hard 
as a smith, 
and — so the 
report went 
: — in devo- 
tion. 

Then the 
people said : 
" How hum- 
ble and penitent Dunstan is ! He has the back-ache all day, and the leg-ache 
all night, and he suffers all for the cause of purity and truth." 

Then Dunstan told the people that the Devil came to tempt him, which, with 
his aches for the good cause, made his situation very trying. 

The Devil, he said, wanted him to lead a life of selfish gratification, but he 
would not be tempted to do a thing like that ; he never thought of himself, — 
oh, no, good soul, not he. 

The people said that Dunstan must have become a very holy man, or the 
Devil would not appear to him bodily. 




ST. DUNSTAN AND THE DEVIL. 



24 ZIGZAG JOURNEYS IN NORTHERN LANDS. 

One day a great noise was heard issuing from the retreat of this man, and 
filling all the air for miles, the like of which was never known before. The 
people were much astonished. Some of them went to Dunstan to inquire the 
cause. He told them a story of a miracle more marvellous than any that he had 
previously done. 

The Devil came to him, he said, as he was at work at his forge, and tempted 
him to lead a life of pleasure. He quickly drew his pincers from the fire, and 
seized his tormentor by the nose, which put him in such pain that he bellowed 
so lustily as to shake the hills. The people said that it was the bellowing of 
the Evil One that they had heard. 

This wonderful story ended to Dunstan's liking, for the artful do flourish 
briefly sometimes. 

The boy king Edred was in ill-health, and suffered from a lingering illness 
for years. He felt the need of the counsel of a good man. He said to himself, — 

"There is Dunstan, a man who has given up all selfish feelings and aspira- 
tions, a man whom even the Devil cannot corrupt. I will bring him to court, 
and will make him my adviser." 

Then pure-hearted Edred brought the foxy prelate to his court, and made 
him — of all things in the world ! — the royal treasurer. 

Edred died in the year 955, having for nine years aimed to do justly and to 
govern well. His decease, like his brother's before him, was sincerely lamented. 

He left a well-ordered government, except in the department of the treasury. 
Some remarkable "irregularities" — as stealing is sometimes called nowadays — 
had taken place there, some of the public money having become mixed up with 
Dunstan's. 

The next of the six boy kings of England was Edwy the Fair, — fifteen years 
of age when he ascended the throne. 

He was the son of Edmund, — a handsome boy, and as good at heart as he 
was handsome. Though so young, he had married a beautiful princess, named 
Elgiva. So we have here a boy king and a girl queen. 

As if one bad prelate were not enough, there was, besides Dunstan, another 
great mischief-maker, Odo, the Dane, Archbishop of Canterbury. 

The coronation of Edwy was the occasion of great rejoicing. They had a 
sumptuous feast in the evening, attended by all the prelates and thanes. Edwy 
liked the society of the girl queen better than that of these rude people, and in 
the midst of the festivities he retired to the queen's apartment to see her and 
the queen mother. 

Odo, the archbishop, noticed that the boy king had left his place at the 



A STORY-TELLING JOURNEY. 55 

tables. He rightly guessed the reason, and deemed such conduct disrespectful 
to himself and to the guests. So he went and made complaint to Dunstan, and 
Dun stan went to look for the missing king. When the latter came to the 
queen's apartment, and was refused admittance, he broke open the door, up- 
braided Edwv f - his ab n " ce from the feast, and, seizing him by the collar, 
dragged ana ^ 1 him roughly back to the banqueting-hall. 

Edwy, of course, resented this treatment. Dunstan replied by accusing him 
of great impropriety, and talked in a very overbearing way, and Edwy, though a 
considerate boy, and of a mild disposition, at last lost his temper. 

" You have a very nice sense of propriety," he said. " You were the treas- 
urer in the last reign, I believe. I intend to call you to account for the way that 
you fulfilled your trust." 

Dunstan was greatly astonished, and, guilty man that he was, he began to 
feel very unsafe. 

The boy king made the attempt which he had threatened, to call Dunstan 
to account for his late doings in the treasury. But the latter, when he found 
that Edwy was in earnest, fled to Ghent. 

The nobles saw somewhat into his true character when he thus disappeared 
from court, and a party of men was sent in pursuit of him to put out his eyes. 
But he was too foxy to be caught, and arrived safely in Belgium at last, to make 
a great deal of trouble in the world yet. 

Incited by Dunstan, Odo raised a rebellion. When he had drawn to himself 
a sufficient party to insure his personal safety, he proclaimed Edgar, the younger 
brother of Edwy, king. 

Dunstan returned to England, and joined Odo, and this precious pair soon 
discovered the value of their piety, as you shall presently see. 

Edwy the Fair loved the girl queen. She was beautiful as well as amiable, 
and was as devoted to her husband as she was lovely. Odo and Dunstan 
wished to break the spirit of Edwy, and thought to accomplish their end by 
capturing the queen. They caused her to be stolen from one of the royal 
palaces, and her cheeks to be burned with hot irons, in order to destroy the 
beauty that had so enchanted the boy king. They then sent her to Ireland, 
and sold her as a slave. 

The Irish people pitied the weeping maiden, and loved her. They healed 
the scars on her cheeks, that the hot irons had made. When her beauty 
returned, she grew light-hearted again, and all her dreams were of the king. 

Then the Irish people released her from bondage, and gave her money to 
return to Edwy. 



e6 ZIGZAG JOURNEYS IN NORTHERN LANDS. 

She entered England full of joyful anticipations, and made rapid journeys 
towards the place where Edwy held his court. But Odo and Dunstan, who had 
been apprised of her coming, intercepted her, and ordered that she should be 
tortured and put to death. They caused the cords of her limbs to be severed, 
so that she was unable to v$Llk or move. The beautiful girl survived the cutting 
and maiming but a few days. 

Weeping continually over her disappointments and sorrows, and shrieking 
at times from the acuteness of her pain, she died at Gloucester, — perhaps the 
most unfortunate princess who ever came to the English throne. 

When Edwy heard of her death, he ceased to struggle for his right ; he 
cared for nothing more. He grew paler and thinner day by day, his beauty 
faded, his thoughts turned heavenward, and he aspired to a better crown and 
kingdom. He died of a broken heart before he reached the age of twenty, 
having aimed for three years to govern well. 

Edwy's short reign was followed by that of his brother Edgar, who suc- 
ceeded to the Anglo-Saxon throne in the year 959, and was an unprincipled and 
dissolute king. 

He was fifteen years of age when he began to reign. One of his first acts 
was to reward the intriguing Dunstan for his crimes by bestowing upon him the 
archbishopric of Canterbury. Think of conferring an archbishopric as the price 
of a brother's ruin and death ! Ah, better to be Edwy the Fair in his early 
grave, with the birds singing and the violets waving above him, than the cruel 
boy Edgar upon the throne. 

He resigned the government almost wholly to Dunstan, his primate, and 
spent his time in gayety, pleasure, and ease. He was unstable, profligate, and 
vicious. He once broke into a convent and carried off a beautiful nun, named 
Eclitha. For this violation of the sanctuary, Dunstan commanded him not to 
wear his crown for seven years, which was no great punishment, as he could 
ornament his head as well in some other way. 

Dunstan certainly possessed great ability as a statesman. He employed the 
vast armaments of England against the neighboring sovereigns, and compelled 
the King of Scotland and the Princes of Wales, of the Isle of Man, and of the 
Orkneys, to do homage to Edgar. 

The boy king annually made a voyage around England in great state, 
accompanied by princes and nobles. 

On one of these occasions, when he wished to visit the Abbey of St. John 
the Baptist, on the River Dee, he appointed eight crowned kings to pull the oars 
of his barge, while he himself acted as steersman. 



A STORY-TELLING JOURNEY. 57 

The vainglorious young sovereign then went into the grand old abbey and 
said his prayers, after which he returned in the same pomp, rowed by the eight 
subject kings. 

This event is celebrated in the songs and ballads of the olden time, which 
tell of the glory of England, when the eight crowns glimmered on the sun- 
covered waters of the Dee. 

Edgar, who was King of England up to the year 975, married twice, and left 
two sons. The elder of these was named Edward, the son of a good queen, 
Ethelfreda ; the other was named Ethelred, the son of the bad queen, Elfrida. 

Edward had the best claim to the throne, but the intriguing Elfrida endeav- 
ored to secure the succession to her own son, Ethelred, a boy about seven years 
old. Dunstan decided against her, and caused Edward to be crowned. The 
boy king was at this time thirteen years of age. 

He was an amiable, susceptible boy, loving every one, and wishing every 
one well, and believing, with childish simplicity, that all the world was as pure 
at heart and as unselfish as himself. 

But Elfrida hated him, and resolved that his reign should be a short one, if 
it was within the reach of her arts to make it so. 

She retired with little Ethelred to Crofe Castle, a beautiful country seat in 
Dorsetshire. Green forests waved around it, and blue hills seemed to semi- 
circle the sky. The silver horn of the hunter often echoed through the stream- 
cleft woodlands, and merrily blew before the castle gate. 

Edward and a youthful court party went hunting one day in the dreamy 
old forests of Dorsetshire. Chancing to ride near Crofe Castle, Edward thought 
that he would like to see Elfrida and his little brother. So he separated himself 
from his attendants, rode to the castle, and blew his horn. 

Elfrida presently appeared, her face glowing with smiles. 

"Thou art welcome, dear king," she said, in a winning way. " Pray dis- 
mount and come in, and we will have pleasant talk and good cheer." 

" No, madam," said Edward. " My company would notice my absence, and 
think that some evil had befallen me. Please bring me a cup of wine, and I will 
drink to your health and to my little brother's, in my saddle, and then I must 
away with speed." 

Elfrida turned away to order the wine. She gave another order at the same 
time in a whisper to an armed attendant. 

The wine was brought. Elfrida filled the cup and handed it to the boy 
king. As he held it up it sparkled in -the light. Elfrida stood in the gateway, 
holding little Ethelred by the hand. 



58 



ZIGZAG JOURNEYS IN NORTHERN LANDS. 



" Health," said Edward, putting the bright cup to his lips. 

There crept up behind him softly an armed man, whose muscles stood out 
like brass, and whose eyes burned like fire. He sprang upon the boy king and 
stabbed him in the back. The affrighted horse dashed away, dragging the 
bleeding body by the stirrup, — on, on, on, over rut and rock, bush and brier. 

They tracked him by his blood. They found his broken body at last. They 
took it up tenderly and with many tears, and laid it beneath the moss and fern. 



^.J^ti-W. ~>. ^ 




CH • =A|UUM"i~ _ -= 



THE MURDER OF EDWARD. 



When little Ethelred saw his brother stabbed and bleeding, and dragged 
over the rough earth, he began to weep. Elfrida beat him and sent him to his 
chamber. 

What a night was that when the moon silvered the forest ! One boy king 
mangled and dead on the cold ground, and another boy king weeping in the 
forest castle, and beaten and bruised for being touched at heart at the murder 
of his bright, innocent brother. 

Ethelred came to the English throne at the age of ten. He was the last of 
the six boy kings. 

The people held him in disfavor from the first on account of his bad mother, 
and when Dunstan put the crown on his head at Kingston, he pronounced a 
curse instead of a blessing. Neither the blessing nor the curse of a man like 



A STORY-TELLING JOURNEY. 59 

Dunstan could be of much account, and we do not believe that the latter did the 
little boy Ethelred any harm. 

Dunstan was now old and as full of craft and wickedness as he was full of 
years. He continued to practise jugglery, which he called performing miracles, 
whenever he found his influence declining, or had an important end to accom- 
plish. 

In the reign of Ethelred Dunstan died. As he had used politics to help the 
church, he was made a saint. This was in a rude and ignorant age. 

Poor boy kings ! Edmund was murdered ; Edwy died of a broken heart ; 
Edward was stabbed and dragged to death at his horse's heels ; and Ethelred 
lost his kingdom. Three of them were good and three were bad. Only one of 
them was happy. 

Edmund, eighteen years of age, reigned from 940 to 946 ; Edred, 946 to 
955 ; Edwy, fifteen years of age, 955 to 958 ; Edgar, fifteen years of age, 958 
to 975 ; Edward, thirteen years of age, 975 to 979 ; Ethelred, ten years of age, 
979 to 1016. 

So the boy kings reigned in all seventy-six years, and governed England in 
their youth for nearly fifty years. 

" I like your story, Master Toby," said Master Lewis ; " as a story, 
I mean. The historic facts are mainly as you have given them, but 
I think St. Dunstan's intentions may have been good, after all. He 
lived in an age of superstition, when it was believed that any political 
act was right that would increase the power of. the church. Chris- 
tianity then was not what it had been in the early church nor what it 
is to-day. Men must be somewhat regarded in the light of the times 
in which they lived." 

The literary exercises for the evening were thus closed. 



CHAPTER IV. 

GERMAN STORIES. 

The Story of the Emperor William. — The Story of "Sneeze with Delight."- 

Poem-Stories. 




T the first meeting of the Club to study the history 
and to relate stories of the Rhine and the North, 
Master Lewis was present, and, after the prelimi- 
nary business had been transacted, said that he 
had some suggestions in mind which he wished to 



m 



ake. 



" I notice," he said, " that many of you have been obtaining from 
the Boston Public Library English translations of the works of Hauff, 
Hoffman, Baron de La Motte Fouque, Grimm, Schiller, and Tieck, and 
I think that there is danger that story-reading and story-telling may 
occupy too much of your time and thought. Let me propose that a 
brief history of each author be given with the. story at the meetings 
of the Club, so that you may at least obtain some knowledge of Ger- 
man literature." 

The suggestion met with the approval of all, and it was voted that 
at future meetings the biographies of authors should be given with 
the stories, and that only the stories "~ the best authors should be 
selected, except in the case of legend' places. 

" I have another proposal to mak said Master Lewis. " You are 
not very familiar with German politics. Suppose you let me give you 
from time to time some short talks about the German Government 



GERMAN STORIES. 6 1 

and its ministers, — King William, Count Bismarck, and Count Von 
Moltke." 

This kind offer was received with cheers and placed upon record 
with thanks. 

" Perhaps you may be willing to open our exercises to-night with 
one of the talks you have planned," said the President. " It would be 
a helpful beginning, which we would appreciate." 

" I am not as well prepared as I would like," said the teacher ; " but 
as I believe in making a first meeting of this kind a sort of a model 
in its plan and purpose,, I will in a free way tell you something of 

THE STORY OF THE EMPEROR WILLIAM. 

The life of the Emperor of Germany has been full of thrilling and dramatic 
scenes. 

When he was a boy, Germany — the great Germany of Charlemagne — was 
divided into states, each having its own ruler. His father was Frederick William 
III., King of Prussia, and his mother was Louise, an excellent woman ; his 
youth was passed amid the excitements of Napoleon's conquests. Russia and 
Prussia combined against Napoleon ; Russia was placed at a disadvantage in 
two doubtful battles, when she deserted the Prussian cause, and made a treaty 
of peace. 

Napoleon then sent for the King of Prussia, to tell him what he would 
leave him. 

The lovely Queen Louise went with the unfortunate king to meet the 
French conqueror, hoping thereby to obtain more favorable terms. But Napo- 
leon treated her with scorn, boasting that he was like " waxed cloth to rain." 

He, however, offered the queen a rose, in a softer moment. 

" Yes," said Louise, thinking of her kingdom, " but with Magdeburg." 

" It is / who give, and you who take," answered Napoleon haughtily. 

Napoleon took away from Prussia all the lands on the Elbe and the Rhine, 
and, uniting these to other German states, formed a kingdom for his brother 
Jerome. 

The good Queen Louise pined away A^th grief and shame at her country's 
losses, and died two years after of a broken heart. So the boyhood of William 
was very sad. 



6 2 ZIGZAG JOURNEYS IN NORTHERN LANDS. 

It is said that children fulfil the ideals of their mothers. Poor Louise little 
thought that her second son would one day be crowned Emperor of all Germany 
in the palace of the French kings at Versailles. 

William was born in 1797 ; he ascended the throne as King of Prussia in 
1 86 1. How widely these dates stand apart! 

On the day of his coronation as King of Prussia, he exhibited his own char- 
acter and religious faith by putting the crown on his own head. " I rule," he 
said, " by the favor of God and no one else." 

Under his vigorous rule Prussia grew in military power, and excited the 
jealousy of the French people. Napoleon III., on a slight pretext, declared war 
with Prussia. In this war Prussia was victorious. 



A MEMORABLE HOUR. 

That was indeed a memorable hour in the emperor's life when he met the 
fallen Emperor of the French in the Chateau Bellevue, on a hill of the Meuse 
overlooking Sedan. The king and the emperor had met before ; they then were 
equals, brother rulers of two of the most powerful nations on earth. They met 
now as conqueror and captive, and the one held the fate of the other in his 
hands. 

" We were both moved at seeing each other again under such circumstances," 
said King William. " I had seen Napoleon only three years before, at the 
summit of his power. What my feelings wee is more than I can describe." 

The king spoke first. 

" God has given victory to me in the war that has been declared against 
me." 

"The war," said Napoleon, "was not sought by me. I did not desire it. 
I declared it in obedience to the public sentiment of France." 

" Your Majesty," said the king, " made the war to meet public opinion ; but 
your ministers created that public opinion." 

" Your artillery, sire, won the battle. The Prussian artillery is the finest in 
the world." 

" Has your Majesty any conditions to propose ? " 

" None : I have no power ; I am a prisoner." 

"Where is the government in France with which I can treat ?" 

" In Paris : the empress and the ministers. » I am powerless." 

King William, as you know, marched to Paris, and at last made conditions 
of peace almost as hard as Napoleon I. had made with his father. The German 

4 



GERMAN STORIES. 



63 



princes in his hour of victory offered him the crown of Southern Germany, and 
he was crowned at Versailles, in the great hall of mirrors, Emperor of Germany. 
Let me now speak of the kaiser's 



MILITARY CAREER. 



It is rare that men and women live to celebrate their seventy-fifth birth- 
day. The age allotted to mortals by the Psalmist is threescore and ten. 

But the hale old Emperor of Germany has not only recently commemorated 




THE EMPEROR WILLIAM AND NAPOLEON III. 

the completion of his eighty-sixth year, but — what is still more striking — at the 
same time marked the seventy-sixth year of his service as an officer in the Prus- 
sian army. '■* 

It is related that, on the 22d of March, 1807, on which day William was just 
ten years old, his father, then King of Prussia, called him into his study and 
said, — j& 



6 4 



ZIGZAG JOURNEYS IN NORTHERN LANDS. 



" My son, I appoint you an officer in my army. You will serve in Company 
No. i of the First Guard Regiment." 

The little prince drew himself up, gave his father a prompt military salute, 
and retired. An hour later he reappeared before the king, attired in the uniform 
of his new rank ; and, repeating the salute, announced to his 

royal father that "he 
was ready for duty." 
Even at so early 
an age, William was 
no fancy soldier, 
holding rank and 
title, and leaving to 




WILLIAM BEFORE HIS FATHER. 

humbler officers the duties and hardships. He 
at once devoted himself to the task of a junior 
ensign ; and from that time onward became an officer in truth, laboring zeal- 
ously to master the military science, and rising step by step, not by favor, but 
by merit and seniority. 

At the age of eighteen, William was in Blucher's army at Waterloo, taking 
an active part in the overthrow of Napoleon, and witnessing that mighty down- 
fall. A little later, he was promoted to the rank of major for cool courage under 
heavy fire ; and from that time on, for nearly half a century, William devoted 
himself wholly to the military profession. 

When he ascended the Prussian throne, there was no more unpopular man 
in the kingdom. He had put down the revolutionary rising in Berlin with grim 
and relentless hand; and the people believed that their new monarch was a 
cruel and haughty tyrant. 

It was not until after the great triumph over Austria, in 1866, that the Prus- 



GERMAN STORIES. 



65 



sians began to discover that King William was not only a valiant soldier, but an 
ardent lover of his country, and a kind-hearted, whole-souled father of his 
people. 

THE STATESMAN. 

For the last sixteen years, no sovereign in Europe has been more devotedly 
beloved and revered by his subjects. Although William is autocratic, and be- 
lieves in his "divine right" to rule as sturdily as did his mediaeval ancestors, 
and has not a little contempt for popular clamors and popular rights, his reign 
has been on the whole brilliantly wise and successful. While this has been in a 
great measure due to the presence of a group of great men around him, — nota- 
bly of Bismarck and Von Moltke, — the emperor himself has had no small share 
in promoting the power and towering fortunes of Germany. 

His paternal ways with his people, his military knowledge, his fine, frank, 
hearty, chivalrous nature, his sound sense in the choice of his advisers, and his 
perception of the wis- 
dom of their coun- 
sels, have much aided 
in raising Prussia 
and Germany to their 
present height in 
Europe. 

Beneath his com- 
manding and rugged 
exterior there beats 
a very kindly heart. 
Many incidents have 
been related to show 
the simple good-nature of his character. In his study, on the table at which he 
writes, there has long remained a rusty old cavalry helmet, the relic of some 
military association of the emperor. 

Whenever the death-warrant of a condemned criminal is brought to him to 
sign, the emperor looks at it, and then slyly slips the fatal document under the 
helmet. Sometimes his ministers, anxious that the warrants should be signed, 
take occasion, in his absence from the study, to pull the papers out from beneath 
the helmet, just enough to catch their master's eye. 

Most often, however William, on perceiving them, quietly pushes them back 
again, without a word. So great is his repugnance to dooming even a hardened 
criminal to death, by a mere scratch of his pen. 

5 




KING WILLIAM'S HELMET. 



66 ZIGZAG JOURNEYS IN NORTHERN LANDS. 

At eighty-six, the stalwart old kaiser cannot hope to dwell much longer 
among his people ; but it will be very long before his fine qualities, soldierly 
courage, and affectionate nature will grow dim in the memory of the fatherland. 



The stories related at this meeting were largely from Grimm and 
Fouque, and are to be found in American books. 

The most pleasing of the stories, told by Herman Reed, is not so 
well known, and we give it here. 

SNEEZE WITH DELIGHT. 

Many, many years ago there lived in an old German town a good cobbler 
and his wife. They had one child, Jamie, a handsome boy of some eight years. 
They were poor people ; and the good wife, to help her husband, had a stall in 
the great market, where she sold fruit and herbs. 

One day the cobbler's wife was at the market as usual, and her little boy was 
with her, when a. strange old woman entered the stalls. 

The woman hardly seemed human. She had red eyes, a wizened, pinched-up 
face, and her nose was sharp and hooked, and almost reached to her chin. Her 
dress was made up of rags and tatters. Never before had there entered the mar- 
ket such a repulsive-looking person. 

" Are you Hannah the herb-woman ? " she asked, bobbing her head to and 
fro. " Eh ? " 

"Yes." 

" Let me see, let me see ; you may have some herbs I want." 

She thrust her skinny hands into the herbs, took them up and smelled of 
them, crushing them as she did so. 

Having mauled them to her heart's content, she shook her head, saying, — 

"Bad stuff; rubbish ; nothing I want; rubbish, rubbish, — eh ?" 

"You are an impudent old hag," said the cobbler's boy, Jamie ; "you have 
crushed our herbs, held them under your ugly nose, and now condemn them." 

" Aha, my son, you do not like my nose, — eh ? You shall have one, too, to 
pay for this, — eh ? " 

" If you want to buy anything, pray do so at once," said the cobbler's wife ; 
"you are keeping other customers away." 

" I will buy something," said the hag viciously ; " I will buy. I will take 



GERMAN STORIES. 



6 7 



these six cabbages. Six ? That is more than I can carry, as I have to lean 
upon my stick. You must let your boy take them home for me." 

This was but a reasonable request, and the cobbler's wife consented. 

Jamie did as he was bid, and followed the hag to her home. It was a long 
distance there. At last the beldam stopped in an out-of-the-way part of the 
town, before a strange-looking house. She touched a rusty key to the door, 
which flew open, and, as 
the two entered, a most 
astonishing sight was re- 
vealed to Jamie's eyes. 

The interior of the 
house was like a throne- 
room in a palace, the ceil- 
ings were of marble and 
gold, and the furniture 
was jewelled ebony. 

The old woman took a 
silver whistle and blew it. 
Little animals — guinea 
pigs and squirrels — an- 
swered the call. They 
were dressed like children, 
and walked on two legs ; 
they could talk and under- 
stand what was said to 
them. Was the beldam 
an enchantress, and were 
these little animals chil- 
dren, whom she had stolen 
and made victims of her 
enchantments ? 

" Sit down, child," said the old woman, in a soft voice, " sit down ; you have 
had a heavy load to carry. Sit down, and I will make you a delicious soup ; one 
that you will remember as long as you live. It will contain some of the herb for 
which I was looking in the market and did not find. Sit down." 

The beldam hurried hither and thither, and with the help of the guinea 
pigs and squirrels quickly made the soup. 

" There, my child, eat that. It contains the magic herb I could not find in 




68 ZIGZAG JOURNEYS IN NORTHERN LANDS. 

the market. Why did your mother not have it? Whoever eats that will become 
a magic cook." 

Jamie had never tasted such delicious soup. It seemed to intoxicate him. 
It produced a stupor. He felt a great change coming over him. He seemed to 
become one of the family of guinea pigs and squirrels, and, like them, to serve 
their mistress. Delightful little people they were, — he came to regard them as 
brothers ; and time flew by. 

Years flew by, and other years, when one day the dame took her crutch and 
went out. She left her herb-room open, and he went in. In one of the secret 
cupboards he discovered an herb that had the same scent as the soup he had 
eaten years before. He examined it. The leaves were blue and the blossoms 
crimson. He smelt of it. 

He began to sneeze, — such a delightful sneeze! He smelt, and sneezed 
again. Suddenly he seemed to awake, as from a dream, — as though some 
strange enchantment had been broken. 

" I must go home," he said. " How mother will laugh when I tell her my 
dream ! I ought not to have gone to sleep in a strange house." 

He went out into the street. The children and idlers began to follow him. 

" Oho, oho ! _look, what a strange dwarf ! Look at his nose ! Never the 
like was seen before." 

Jamie tried to discover the dwarf, but could not see him. 

He reached the market. His mother was there, a sad old woman, in the 
same place. She seemed altered ; looked many years older than when he left 
her. She leaned her head wearily on her hand. 

" What is the matter, mother clear ? " he asked. 

She started up. 

" What do you want of me, you poor dwarf ? Do not mock me. I have had 
sorrow, and cannot endure jokes." 

"But, mother, what has happened ?" 

He rushed towards her to embrace her, but she leaped into the air. 

The market-women came to her and drove him away. 

He went to his father's cobbler's shop. His father was there, but he looked 
like an old man. 

"Good gracious! what is that?" said he wildly, as Jamie appeared. 

" How are you getting on, master ? " asked Jamie. 

" Poorly enough. I 'm getting old, and have no one to help me." 

" Have you no son ? " 

" I had one, years ago." 



GERMAN STORIES. 



71 



" Where is he now ? " 

" Heaven only knows. He was kidnapped one market-day, seven years ago." 

" Seven years ago ! " 

Jamie turned away. The people on the street stared at him, and the ill-bred 
children followed him. He chanced to pass a barber's shop, where was a look- 
ing-glass in the window. He stopped and saw himself. 

The sight filled him with terror. He was a dwarf, with a nose like that of 
the strange old woman. 

What should he do ? 

He remembered that the old woman had said that the eating of the magic 
soup that contained the magic herb 







^"^--'{"ST"? •'- i N^r 



vmmr 




would make him a magic cook. 

He went to the palace of the 
duke and inquired for the major 
domo. He was kindly received, as 
dwarfs are in such places, and he 
asked to be employed in the kitchen, 
and allowed to show his skill in pre- 
paring some of the rare dishes for the 
table. 

No one in the ducal palace was 
able to produce such food as he. 
He was made chief cook in a little 
time, and enjoyed the duke's favor 
for two years. He grew fat, was 
honored at the great feasts, and be- 
came the wonder of the town. 

Now happened the strangest 
thing of his strange life. 

(Ye that have eyes, prepare to 
open them now.) 

One morning he went to the goose market to buy some nice fat geese, such 
as he knew the duke would relish. He purchased a cage of three geese, but he 
noticed that one of the geese did not quack and gabble like the others. 

"The poor thing must be sick," he said ; " I will make haste to kill her." 

To his great astonishment, the goose made answer : — 



" Stop my breath, 
And I will cause your early death." 



72 



ZIGZAG JOURNEYS IN NORTHERN LANDS. 



Then he knew that the goose was some enchanted being, and he resolved to 
spare her life. 

" You have not always had feathers on you, as now ? " said the dwarf. 
" No ; I am Mimi, daughter of Waterbrook the Great." 

" Prithee be calm ; I will be your friend ; I know how to pity you. I was 
once a squirrel myself." 

Now the duke made a great feast, and invited the prince. The prince was 
highly pleased with the ducal dishes, and praised the cook. 

"But there is one dish that you have not provided," said the prince. 
"What is that ? " asked the duke. 
" Pate Suzerain ." 

The duke ordered the dwarf to make the rare dish for the next banquet. 
The dwarf obeyed. 

When the prince had tasted, he pushed it aside, and said, — 
"There is one thing lacking, — one peculiar herb. It is not like that which 
is provided for my own table." 

The duke, in a towering passion, sent for the dwarf. 

" If you do not prepare this dish rightly for the next banquet," he said, " you 
shall lose your head." 

Now the dwarf was in great distress, and he went to consult with the goose. 
" I know what is wanting," said the goose ; " it is an herb called Sneeze with 
Delight. I will help you find it." 

The dwarf took the goose under his arm, and asked of the guard, who had 
been placed over him until he should prepare the dish, 
permission to go into the garden. 

They were allowed to go. They searched in vain 
for a long time ; but at last the goose spied the magic 
leaf across the lake, and swam across, and returned 
with it in her bill. 

" 'T is the magic herb the old woman used in the 
soup," said the dwarf. " Thank the Fates ! we may 
now be delivered from our enchantment." 

He took a long, deep sniff of the herb. He then 
sneezed with delight, and lo ! he began to grow, and his nose began to shrink, 
and he was transformed to the handsomest young man in all the land. 

He took the goose under his arm, and walked out of the palace yard. He 
carried her to a great magician, who delivered her from her enchantment, 
and she sneezed three sneezes, and became the handsomest lady in all the 
kingdom. 




(fcWWjiJ 



GERMAN STORIES. 73 

Now, Mimi's father was very rich, and he loaded Jamie with presents, which 
were worth a great fortune. 

Then handsome Jamie married the lovely Mimi ; and he brought his old 
father and mother to live with them in a palace, and they were all exceedingly 
happy. 

" What is the moral of such a tale as that ? " asked one of the 
Club. 

" If you have any crookedness, to find the magic herb," said 
Charlie. 

Charlie Leland, the President, closed the exercises with some 
translations of his own, which he called " Stories in Verse*." We give 
two of them here ; each relates an incident of Eberhard, the good 
count, whom German poets have often remembered in song. 

THE RICHEST PRINCE. 

In a stately hall in the city of Worms, 

A festive table was laid ; 
The lamps a softened radiance shed, 

And sweet the music played. 

Then the Saxon prince, and Bavaria's lord, 

And the Palsgrave of the Rhine, 
And Wiirtemberg's monarch, Eberhard, 

Came into that hall to dine. 

Said the Saxon prince, with pride elate, 

" My lords, I have wealth untold : 
There are gems in my mountain gorges great ; 

In my valleys are mines of gold." 

" Thou hast boasted well," said Bavaria's lord, 

" But mine is a nobler land : 
I have famous cities, and castled towns, 

And convents old and grand." 

"And better still is my own fair land," 

Said the Palsgrave of the Rhine : 
" There are sunny vineyards upon the hills ; 

In the valleys are presses of wine." 



74 



ZIGZAG JOURNEYS IN NORTHERN LANDS. 

Then bearded Eberhard gently said, 

" My lords, I have neither gold, 
Nor famous cities, nor castled towns, 

Nor convents grand and old. 



"I have no vineyards upon the hills, 
In the valleys no presses of wine ; 

But God has given a treasure to me 
As noble as any of thine. 




EBERHARD. 



" I wind my horn on the rocky steep, 
In the heart of the greenwood free, 

And I safely lay me down and sleep 
On any subject's knee." 



Oh, then the princes were touched at heart, 
And they said, in that stately hall, 

" Thou art richer than we, Count Eberhard ; 
Thy treasure is greater than all." 



GERMAN STORIES. 75 



EQUALITY. 

The banners waved, the bugles rung, 

The fight was hot and hard ; 
Beneath the walls of Doffingen, 
Fast fell the ranks of Suabian men 
Led on by Eberhard. 

Count Ulric was a valiant youth, 

The son of Eberhard ; 
The banners waved, the bugles rung, 
His spearmen on the foe he flung, 

And pressed them sore and hard. 

" Ulric is slain ! " the nobles cried, — 
The bugles ceased to blow ; 

But soon the monarch's order ran : 

" My son is as another man, 
Press boldly on the foe ! " 

And fiercer now the fight began, 
And harder fell each blow ; 

But still the monarch's order ran : 

"My son is as another man, 
Press, press upon the foe ! " 

Oh, many fell at Doffingen 

Before the day was done ; 
But victory blessed the Suabian men, 
And happy bugles played again, 

At setting of the sun. 



CHAPTER V. 

THE SECOND MEETING OF THE CLUB. 

Constance. The Story of Huss. — Bismarck and the German Government. — 

The Story of the Heart of Stone. — Poem. — Seven Nights on the Rhine: 
Night First. 




HE second meeting of the Club was opened by Mr. 
Beal with an account of Constance, and of the great 
Council that convened there in 14 14. 

" Via Mala ! So the old Romans called the 
road near the source of the Rhine. It passed over 
and through dark and awful chasms, that the river, as it came down 
from the Alps, had been tunnelling for thousands of years. 

" The Rhine is the gift of the Alps, as Egypt is the gift of the Nile. 
From its source amid the peaks of the clouds to its first great reser- 
voir, the Lake of Constance, it passes through one of the wildest and 
most picturesque regions in the world. It is not strange that the 
Romans should have called their old Swiss road Via Mala. 

" Lake Constance ! How our heads bent and our feelings kindled 
and glowed when we beheld it ! It is the most beautiful lake that 
Germany possesses. It is walled by snow-capped mountains, whose 
tops seem like islands in the blue lakes of the skies. Quaint towns 
are nestled among the groves of the shore ; towers, with bells ringing 
soft and melodious in the still air. The water is like emerald. Afar, 
zigzagging sails flap mechanically in the almost pulseless air. 

" There is color everywhere, of all hues : high, rich tones of color ; 



low tones, 
groves ; a deep 
cerulean sky 
above, that the 
sunlight fills 
like a golden 
sea. At sunset 
the lake seems 
indeed like the 
vision that John 
saw, — ' a sea of 
glass, mingled 
with fire.' 

" The town 
of Constance, 
once a great city, 
is as old as the 
period of Con- 
stantine. When 
Charlemagne 
went to Rome 
to receive the 
imperial crown, 
he rested here. 
Here a long line 
of German 
kings left the 
associations of 
great festivities ; 
here those kino;s 
passed their 
Christmases and Easters. 



THE 'SECOND MEETING OF THE CLUB. yy 

Piles of gems on the mountains, gloomy shadows in the 








BRIDGE IN THE VIA MALA. 



Here convened brilliant regal assemblies. 



78 ZIGZAG JOURNEYS IN NORTHERN LANDS. 

Here the ambassadors from Milan appeared before Barbarossa, and 
delivered to him the golden key of the Italian states. 

" But these events are of comparatively small importance in com- 
parison with the so-called Holy Council of Constance, in 1414. It was 
a time of spiritual dearth in the world. Arrogance governed the Church, 
and immorality nourished in it. There were three popes, each at 
war with the others, — John XX 1 1 1., Benedict XII., and Gregory XII. 

" The Council was called to choose a pope, and to reform the Church. 
The town for four years became the centre of European history. 
Hither came kings and princes ; the court of the world was here. 

" The town filled, and filled. It was like a great fair. Delegates 
came from the North and the South, the East and the West. There 
were splendid fetes ; luxury and vainglory. At one time there were 
present a hundred thousand men. 

" The Council accomplished nothing by way of reform, except to 
induce the three rival popes to relinquish their claims to a fourth ; but 
it stained its outward glory with a crime that will never be forgotten. 

" When we were in Florence, — beautiful Florence ! — the tragedy 
of Savonarola rose before us like a spectre in the history of the past. 
Savonarola tried to reform the conduct of the clergy and to maintain 
the purity of the Church, but failed. He made the republic of Flor- 
ence a model Christian commonwealth. Debauchery was suppressed, 
gambling was prohibited, the licentious factions of the times were there 
publicly destroyed. He arraigned Rome for her sins. The Roman 
party turned against him and accused him of heresy, the punishment 
of which was death. He declared his innocence, and desired to test it 
with his accusers by walking through a field of living fire. He believed 
God would protect him from the flames, like the worthies of old. His 
enemies were unwilling to go with him into the fiery ordeal. He was 
condemned and executed. The martyr of Florence in after years 
became one of its saints. 

" At Constance a like tragedy haunted us. Constance has been 
called ' the city of Huss.' 



THE SECOND MEETING OF THE CLUB. 



79 



14 Among the mighty ones who wended their way to the city of the 
lake, to attend the great Council, was a pale, thin man, in mean attire. 
He had been invited 
to the Council by the 
Emperor Sigismund, 
who promised to pro- 
tect his person and his 
life. He was a Bohe- 
mian reformer ; a fol- 
lower of Wycliffe. He 
was graciously re- 
ceived, but was soon 
after thrown into 
prison on the charge 
of heresy. 

" They led him in 
chains before the 
Council, which assem- 
bled in an old hall, 
which is still shown. 
The emperor sat upon 
the throne as presi- 
dent. 

"He confessed to 
having read and dis- 
seminated the writings of Wycliffe. 

" He was required to denounce the English reformer as one of the 
souls of the lost. 

" ' If he be lost, then I could wish my soul were with his,' he said 
firmly. 

" This was pronounced to be heresy. 

" The emperor declared that he was not obliged to keep his word to 




JOHN HUSS. 



80 ZIGZAG JOURNEYS IN NORTHERN LANDS. 

heretics, and that his promise to protect the life of the Bohemian was 
no longer binding. 

" He was condemned to death. He was stripped of his priestly 
robes, and the cup of the sacrament was taken from his hands with a 
curse. 

" ' I trust I shall drink of it this day in the kingdom of heaven,' he said. 

"' We devote thy soul to the devils in hell,' was the answer of the 
prelates. 

" He was led away, guarded by eight hundred horsemen, to a meadow 
without the gates. Here he was burned alive, and triumphed in soul 
amid the flames. 

" Such was the end of John Huss, the Savonarola of Constance. 

" We made an excursion upon the lake. The appearance of the old 
city from the water is one of the most beautiful that can meet the eye. 
It seems more like an artist's dream than a reality, — floating towers 
in a crystal atmosphere. 

" ' Girt round with rugged mountains, 
The fair Lake Constance lies.' 

" The lake is walled with mountains, and wears a chain of castle-like 
towns, like a necklace. 

"It would be delightful to spend a summer there. Excursions on 
the steamers can be made at almost any time of the day. One can 
visit in this way five different old countries, — Baden, Wiirtemberg, 
Bavaria, Austria, and Switzerland." 

Mr. Beal's succinct account of the old citv led to a discussion of the 
gains of civilization from martyrdoms for principle and progress. He 
was followed by Master Lewis, who gave the Class some account of 

BISMARCK AND THE GERMAN GOVERNMENT. 

In the eyes of the multitude, Bismarck is a great but unscrupulous states- 
man, intent upon uniting Germany and making it the leading nation of Europe. 



THE SECOND MEETING OF THE CLUB. 



As a man, he seems hard-headed, self-willed, and iron-handed. As a ruler, he 
is looked upon as the incarnation of the despotic spirit, — a believer in force, 
an infidel as to moral suasion. 

Many persons who sympathize with his policy censure the means by which 
he executes it. They do not consider that so long as that policy is threatened 
from within and without, the Chancellor must trust in force ; nor do they. read 
the lesson of the centuries, — Force must rule until Right reigns. 

The fact is not apprehended by the unthinking multitude, that the work of 
grafting a statesman's policy into the life of a nation requires, like grafting a 
fruit-tree, excision, incision, pressure, and time. 

But it is not of Bismarck's policy I would first speak, but of that which few 
credit him with possessing, — his moral convictions. Strange as it may seem to 
those who know only 
the Chancellor, Bis- 
marck is not only a 
religious man, but 
his religion is the 
foundation of his 
policy. 

Dr. Busch, one 
of the statesman's 
secretaries, in a re- 
cent book, "Bis- 
marck in the Franco- 
German War," nar- 
rates incidents and 
reports private con- 
versations which jus- 
tify this assertion. 

On the eve of his 
leaving Berlin to join 



the army, the Chan- 
cellor partook of the 
Lord's Supper. The 
solemn rite was cele- 
brated in his own room, that it might not appear as an exhibition of official 
piety. 

One morning Bismarck was called suddenly from his bed to see a French 
general. Dr. Busch, on entering the bedroom just after the chief had left it, 

6 




BISMARCK. 



82 ZIGZAG JOURNEYS IN NORTHERN LANDS. 

found everything in disorder. On the floor was a book of devotion, "Daily 
Watchwords and Texts of the Moravian Brethren for 1870." On the table by 
the bed was another, " Daily Refreshment for Believing Christians." 

" The Chancellor reads in them every night," said Bismarck's valet to Dr. 
Busch, seeing his surprise. 

One day, while dining with his staff, several of whom were " free-thinkers," 
Bismarck turned the conversation into a serious vein. A secretary had spoken 
of the feeling of duty which pervaded the German army, from the private to the 
general. 

Bismarck caught the idea and tossed it still higher. " The feeling of duty," 
he said, " in a man who submits to be shot dead on his post, alone, in the dark, 
is due to what is left of belief in our people. He knows that there is Some One 
who sees him when the lieutenant does not see him." 

" Do you believe, Your Excellency," asked a secretary, " that they really reflect 
on this ? " 

" Reflect ? no ; it is a feeling, a tone, an instinct. If they reflect they lose 
it. Then they talk themselves out of it. 

" How," Bismarck continued, " without faith in a revealed religion, in a God 
who wills what is good, in a Supreme Judge, and in a future life, men can live 
together harmoniously, each doing his duty and letting every one else do his, I 
do not understand." 

There was a pause in the conversation, and the Chancellor then gave expres- 
sion to his faith. 

" If I were no longer a Christian," he said, " I would not remain for an hour 
at my post.. If I could not count upon my God, assuredly I should not do so on 
earthly masters. 

" Why should I," he continued, " disturb myself and work unceasingly in this 
world, exposing myself to all sorts of vexations, if I had not the feeling that I 
must do my duty for God's sake ? If I did not believe in a Divine order, which 
has destined this German nation for something good and great, I would at once 
give up the business of a diplomatist. Orders and titles have no charm for me." 

There was another pause, for the staff were silent before this revelation of 
their chiefs inner life. He continued to lay bare the foundations of his states- 
manship. 

" I owe the firmness which I have shown for ten years against all possible 
absurdities only to my decided faith. Take from me this faith, and you take 
from me my fatherland. If I were not a believing Christian, if I had not the 
supernatural basis of religion, you would not have had such a Chancellor. 

" I delight in country life, in the woods, and in nature," he said, in the course 



THE SECOND MEETING OF THE CLUB. 83 

of the conversation. " Take from me my relation to God, and I am the man who 
will pack up to-morrow and be off to Varzin [his farm] to grow my oats." 

The surprise with which these revelations of a statesman's inner life are 
read is due to their singularity. Neither history nor biography is so full of 
instances of statesmen confessing their faith in God and in Christianity, at a 
dinner-table surrounded by "free-thinkers," as to prevent the reading of these 
revelations from being both interesting and stimulating. 

" I live among heathen," said the Chancellor, as he concluded this acknowl- 
edgment that his religion was the basis of his statesmanship. " I don't seek to 
make proselytes, but I am obliged to confess my faith." 

Prince von Bismarck was born in 181 3. His political history is similar to 
Emperor William's, which I related at our last meeting. The Emperor and his 
Chancellor, in matters of state, have been as one man. Each has aimed to secure 
the unity of the German empire. Each has sought to disarm, on the one hand, 
that branch of the Catholic party who give their allegiance to Rome rather than 
the government, the so-called Ultramontanes ; and the Socialists, on the other 
hand, who would overthrow the monarchy. The two strong men have ruled 
with a firm hand, but with much wisdom. Germany could hardly have a more 
liberal government, unless she became a republic. 

The stones of the evening were chiefly selected from Hoffman 
They were too long and terrible to be given here. Among them were 
"The Painter" and "The Elementary Spirit." In introducing these 
stories, Mr. Beal related some touching and strange incidents of their 
author. 

HOFFMAN. 

Hoffman died in Berlin. His career as a musical artist had been associated 
with the Prussian-Polish provinces, where he seems to have acquired habits of 
dissipation in brilliant but gay musical society. 

Hoffman had exquisite refinement of taste, and sensitiveness to the beautiful 
in nature and art, but the exhilaration of the wine-cup was to him a fatal knowl- 
edge. It made him in the end a poor, despised, inferior man. 

As he lost his self-mastery, he also seemed to lose his self-respect. He 
mingled with the depraved, and carried the consciousness of his inferiority into 
all his associations with better society. 

" I once saw Hoffman," says one, " in one of his night carouses. He was 



84 ZIGZAG JOURNEYS IN NORTHERN LANDS. 

sitting in his glory at the head of the table, not stupidly drunk, but warmed with 
wine, which made him madly eloquent. There, in full tide of witty discourse, or, 
if silent, his hawk eye flashing beneath his matted hair, sat this unfortunate 
genius until the day began to dawn ; then he found his way homeward. 

" At such hours he used to write his wild, fantastic tales. To his excited 
fancy everything around him had a spectral look. The shadows of fevered 
thought stalked like ghosts through his soul." 

This stimulated life came to a speedy conclusion. He was struck with a 
most strange paralysis at the age of forty-six. 

His disease first paralyzed his hands and feet, then his arms and legs, then 
his whole body, except his brain and vital organs. 

In this condition it was remarked in his presence that death was not the 
worst of evils. He stared wildly and exclaimed, — 

" Life, life, only life, — on any condition whatsoever ! " 

His whole hope was centred in the gay world which had already become to 
him as a picture of the past. 

But the hour came at last when he knew he must die. He asked his wife to 
fold his useless hands on his breast, and, looking at her pitifully, he said, " And 
we must think of God also." 

Religion, in his gay years, as a provincial musician, and as a poet in the 
thoughtless society of the capital, had seldom occupied his thoughts. 

His last thought was given to the subject which should have claimed the 
earliest and best efforts of his life. 

" God also !" It was his farewell to the world. The demons had done their 
work. Life's opportunities were ended. 

The words of his afterthought echo after him, and, like his own weird stories, 
have their lesson. 

Herman Reed presented a story from a more careful writer. It 
is a story with an aim, and left an impressive lesson on the minds of 
all. If it be somewhat of an allegory, it is one whose meaning it is 
not hard to comprehend. 

THE HEART OF STONE. 

The Black Forest, from time out of mind, has abounded with stories of phan- 
toms, demons, genii, and fairies. The dark hue of the hills, the shadowy and 
mysterious recesses, the lonely ways, the beautiful glens, all tend to suggest the 



THE SECOND MEETING OF THE CLUB. 85 

legends that are associated with every mountain, valley, and town. The old 
legends have filled volumes. One of the most popular of recent stories of the 
Black Forest is the " Marble Heart ; or, the Stone-cold Heart," by Hauff. 

Wilhelm Hauff, a writer of wonderful precocity, genius, and invention, was 
born at Stuttgart in 1809. He was designed for the theological profession, and 
entered the University of Tubingen in 1820. He had a taste for popular legends, 
and published many allegorical works. He died before he had completed his 
twenty-sixth year. 

There once lived a widow in the Black Forest, whose name was Frau Bar- 
bara Munk. She had a boy, sixteen years old, named Peter, who was put to the 
trade of charcoal-burner, a common occupation in the Black Forest. 

Now a charcoal-burner has much time for reflection ; and as Peter sat at his 
stack, with the dark trees around him, he began to cherish a longing to become 
rich and powerful. 

"A black, lonely charcoal-burner," he said to himself, "leads a wretched 
life. How much more respected are the glass-blowers, the clock-makers, and 
the musicians ! " 

The raftsmen of the forest, too, excited his envy. They passed like giants 
through the towns, with their silver buckles, consequential looks, and clay pipes, 
often a yard long. There were three of these timber-dealers that he particu- 
larly admired. One of them, called " Fat Hesekiel," seemed like a mint of gold, 
so freely did he use his money at the gaming-tables at the tavern. The second, 
called " Stout Schlurker," was both rich and dictatorial ; and the third was a 
famous dancer. 

These traders were from Holland. Peter Munk, the young coal-burner, 
used to think of them and their good fortune, when sitting alone in the pine 
forests. The Black Foresters were people rich in generous character and right 
principle, but very poor in purse. Peter began to look upon them and their 
homely occupations with contempt. 

" This will do no longer," said Peter, one clay. " I must thrive or die. Oh, 
that I were as much regarded as rich Hesekiel or powerful Schlurker, or even 
as the King of the Dancers! I wonder where they obtain their money!" 

There were two Forest spirits, of whom Peter had heard, that were said 
to help those who sought them to riches and honor. One was Glassmanikin, a 
good little dwarf; and the other was Michael the Dutchman, — dark, dangerous, 
terrible, and powerful, — a giant ghost. 

Peter had heard that there was a magic verse, which, were he to repeat it 
alone in the forest, would cause the benevolent dwarf, Glassmanikin, to appear. 
Three of the lines were well known, — 



86 



ZIGZAG JOURNEYS IN NORTHERN LANDS. 





O treasure-guarder, 'mid the forests green, 
Many, full many a century hast thou seen : 
Thine are the lands where rise the dusky 
pine — " 

He did not know the last line, 

and, as he was but a poor poet, he was 

unable to make a line to fill the sense, 

metre, and rhyme. 

He inquired of the Black Foresters about 

the missing line, but they only knew as much 

as he, else many of them would have called the fairy 

banker to their own service. 

One day, as he was alone in the forest, he re- 
solved to repeat, over and over, the magic lines, 
hoping that the fourth line would in some way occur 
to him. 

O treasure-guarder, 'mid the forests green, 
Many, full many a century hast thou seen : 
Thine are the regions of the dusky pine." 

As he said these words he saw, to his astonish- 
ment, a little fellow peep around the trunk of a tree ; 
but, as the fourth line did not come to him, Mr. Glass- 
manikin disappeared. 

Peter went home, with his mind full of vis- 
ions. Oh, that he were a poet! He consulted 
the oldest wood-cutters, but none of them could 
supply the missing line. 

Soon after, Peter again went into the 
deep forest, his brain aching for a 
rhyme with pine. As he was hur- 
rying along, a gigantic man, with 
a pole as big as a mast over his 
shoulder, appeared from behind 
the pine-trees. Peter was filled 
with terror, for he felt that it was 
none other than the giant-gnome, 
Michael the Dutchman. 

" Peter Munk, what doest thou 
here?" he thundered. 



THE SECOND MEETING OE THE CLUB. 87 

" I want to pass this road on business,"' said Peter, in increasing alarm. 

" Thou liest. Peter, you are a miserable wight, but I pity you. You want 
money. Accept my conditions, and I will help you. How many hundred thalers 
do you want ? " 

" Thanks, sir ; but I '11 have no dealings with you : I am afraid of your coji- 
ditions. I have heard of you already." 

Peter began to run. 

The giant strode after him ; but there was a magic circle in the forest that 
he could not pass, and, as he was near it, Peter was able to escape. 

A great secret had been revealed to Peter, and he now thought he had the 
clew to the charm. The good dwarf, Glassmanikin, only helped people who 
were born on Sunday. 

Possessed of this fact, Peter again ventured on into the deep forest. He 
found himself at last under a huge pine. He stopped there to rest, when sud- 
denly a perfect line and rhyme occurred to him. He leaped into the air with 
joy, and exclaimed : — 

" O treasure-guarder, 'mid the forests green, 
Many, full many a century hast thou seen : 
Thine are the regions of the dusky pine, 
And children born on Sabbath-days are thine." 

A little old manikin arose from the earth at the foot of the pine. He wore 
a black jerkin, red stockings, and a peaked hat. His face had a kindly expres- 
sion, and he sat down and began to smoke a blue glass pipe. 

"Peter, Peter," said the fairy, "I should be sorry to think that the love of 
idleness has brought you hither to me." 

"No; I know that with idleness vice begins. But I would like a better 
trade. It is a low thing to be a charcoal-burner. I would like to become a 
glass-blower." 

" To every Sunday-child who seeks my aid, I grant three wishes. If, how- 
ever, the last wish is a foolish one, I cannot grant it. Peter, Peter, what are 
your wishes ? Let them be good and useful." 

" I wish to dance better than the King of Dancers." 

"One." 

" Secondly, I would always have as much money in my pocket as ' Fat 
Hesekiel.' " 

" Oh, you poor lad ! " said the gnome sadly. " What despicable things to 
wish for ! To dance well, and have money to gamble ! What is your third 
wish ? " 



ZIGZAG JOURNEYS IN NORTHERN LANDS. 



" I should like to own the finest glass factory in the forest." 
"O stupid Charcoal Peter! you should have wished for wisdom. Wealth is 

useless without wis- 
dom to use it. Here 
are two thousand 
guldens. Go." 

Peter returned 
home. At the frol- 
ics at the inn, he 
surpassed the King 
of Dancers in danc- 
ing, and he was 
hailed with great 
admiration by the 
young. He began 
to gamble at the 
ale-houses, and was 
able to produce as 
much money as Fat 
Hesekiel himself. 
People wondered. 
He next ordered a 
glass factory to be 
built, and in a few 
months Peter Munk 
was rich and famous 
and envied. People 
said he had found a 
hidden treasure. 

But Peter did 
not know how to use 
his money. He 
spent it at the ale- 
house ; and at last, 
when the money in 

the pockets of Fat Hesekiel, for some reason, was low, he was unable to pay 

his debts, and the bailiffs came to take him to prison. 

In his troubles he resolved to go again into the deep forest, and seek the 

aid of the forest gnomes. 




"Qtet/naTi 



PETER AND THE MANIKIN. 



THE SECOND MEETING OF THE CLUB. 



8 9 



"If the good little gnome will not help me," he said, " the big one will." 

As he passed along, ashamed 
of his conduct in not having bet- 
ter deserved of the good fairy, he 
began to cry, — 

" Michael the Dutchman ! Mi- 
chael the Dutchman ! " 

In a few moments the giant 
raftsman stood before him. 

" You 've come to me at last," 
he said. " Go with me to my 
house, and I will show you how 
I can be of service to you." 

Peter followed the giant to 
some steep rocks, and down into 
an abyss ; there was the gnome's 
palace. 

" Your difficulties come from 
here" said the gnome, placing his 
hands over the young man's heart. 
" Let me have your heart, and you 
shall have riches." 

" Give you my heart ? " said 
Peter ; " I should die." 

" No ; follow me." 

He led Peter into a great 
closet, where were jars filled with 
liquid. In them were the hearts 
of many who had become rich. 
Among them were the hearts of 
the King of the Dancers and of 
Fat Hesekiel. 

" The hinderance to wealth is 
feeling. I have taken, as you see, 
the hearts of these rich men. I 
have replaced them by hearts of 
stone. You see how they flourish. 
Yon may do the same." 




PETER SURPASSED THE KING OF DANCERS. 



"A heart of stone must feel very cold within," said Peter. 



go 



ZIGZAG JOURNEYS IN NORTHERN LANDS. 



"But what is the use of a heart of feeling, with poverty? Give me your 
heart, and I will make you rich." 
"Agreed," said Peter. 

The giant gave him a drug, which caused stupor. When Peter awoke from 

the stupor his heart seemed 
cold. He put his hand on 
his breast : there was no 
motion. Then he knew 
that he had indeed a heart 
of stone. 

Nothing now brought 
him pleasure or delight. 
He loved nothing ; pitied 
no one's misfortunes. 
Beauty was nothing. He 
cared not for relatives or 
friends; but he had 
money, money. The sup- 
ply never failed. 

He travelled over the. 
world, but everything 
seemed dead to him. Sen- 
timent was dead within 
him. He lied, he cheated. 
He filled many homes with 
wretchedness and ruin. 

At last he became 
weary of life. 

" I would give all my 




PETER AND THE GIANT. 



riches," he said, "to feel once again love in my heart." 

He resolved to go into the woods and consult the good fairy. 
He came to the old pine-tree, — 

" O treasure-guarder, 'mid the forests green, 
Many, full many a century thou hast seen ; 
Thine are the regions of the dusky pine, 
And children born on Sabbath-days are thine." 



The Glassmanikin came up again, as before. He met Peter with an injured 



look. 



THE SECOND MEETING OF THE CLUB. 9 1 

" What wouldst thou ? " 

" That thou shouldst give me a feeling heart." 

" I cannot. I am not Michael the Dutchman." 

" I can live no longer with this stone heart." 

" I pity you. Take this cross, and go to Michael. Get him to give you back 
your heart, under some pretext, and when he demands it again show him this 
cross, and he will be powerless to harm you." 

Peter took the cross and hurried into the deep forest. He called, — 

" Michael the Dutchman ! Michael the Dutchman ! " 

The giant appeared. 

" What now, Peter Munk ? " 

" There is feeling in my heart. Give me another. You have been deceiving 
me." 

"Come to my closet, and we will see." 

The gnome took out the stone heart, and replaced it for a moment by the 
old heart from the jar. It began to beat. Peter felt joy again. How happy 
he was ! A heart, even with poverty, seemed the greatest of blessings. He 
would not exchange his heart again for the world. 

" Let me have it now," said the gnome. 

But Peter held out the cross. The gnome shrank away, faded, and disap- 
peared. 

Peter put his hand on his breast^ His heart was beating. He became 
a wise, thrifty, and prosperous man. 



CHAPTER VI. 



NIGHT SECOND. 



Seven Nights on the Rhine : — Basle. — Marshal Von Moltke. 

the Enchanted Hen. 



The Story of 




UR second night on the Rhine was passed at Basle. 
Leaving Lake Constance, the Rhine, full of vivid 
life, starts on its way to the sea. At the Rhine- 
fall at Schaffhausen the water scenery becomes 
noble and exciting. A sriarantic rock, over three 
hundred feet wide, impedes the course of the river, 
and over it the waters leap and eddy and foam, and then flow calmly 
on amid green woods, and near villages whose windows glitter in 
the sun. 

We rode through the so-called Forest towns. High beeches stood 
on each side of the river, and the waters here were as blue as the sky, 
and so clear we could see the gravelly bed. 

The river hastened to Basle. We hastened on like the river. 
Basle is the first town of importance on the Rhine. 

Here we obtained a fine view of the Black Forest range of hills, 
and beheld the distant summits of the Jura and the Vosges. 

Basle was a Roman fortified . town in the days of the struggles of 
Rome with the Barbarians. It is gray with history, — with the bat- 
tles of Church and State, battles of words, and battles of deeds and 
blood. But the sunlight was poured upon it, and the Rhine flowed 
quietly by, and the palaces of peace and prosperity rose on every hand, 










A VILLAGE IN THE BLACK FOREST. 



NIGHT SECOND. 



95 



as though the passions of men had never been excited there, or th^e soil 
reddened with blood. 

We took a principal street on our arrival, and followed the 
uncertain way. It led to the cathedral, on high ground. At the en- 



88111 




PEASANT'S HOUSE IN THE BLACK FOREST. 



trance to the grand old church stood the figures of St. George and St. 
Martin on prancing horses. The interior was high and lofty, with an 
imposing organ. Here we read on one of the tombs, " Erasmus of 
Rotterdam." 

The famous Black Forest is comprised within the lines of an isos- 



96 ZIGZAG JOURNEYS IN NORTHERN LANDS. 

celes triangle, which has Basle and Constance at each end of the line 
of base. The Rhine turns toward the north at Basle, and very nearly 
follows two lines of the figure. The forest covers an area of about 
twelve hundred square miles. It is a romantic seclusion, having Basle, 
Freiburg, and Baden-Baden for its cities of supply and exchange ; full 
of pastoral richness, lonely grandeur; a land of fable and song. 

The Black Forest Railway is one of the great triumphs of engineer- 
ing skill. It is ninety-three miles long, and has some forty tunnels. 
It takes the traveller from Baden at once into the primeval solitudes. 
Freiburg, a very quaint town, is situated in the forest. 

Master Lewis spoke briefly to the Club of Von Moltke, the great 
Prussian general. 

MARSHAL VON MOLTKE. 

Never was a nation more fortunate in its leaders than was Prussia when she 
aimed to achieve German unity. It is often the case that when some great 
crisis comes upon a country, men able to deal with it rise and become the guides 
of the people. This was never more true than it was of Prussia when, thirteen 
years ago, she entered upon the war with France which was to decide not only 
her own destiny, but that of the whole German people. 

Three Prussians towered, at that time, far above the rest, — William, the 
wise and energetic king ; Bismarck, the resolute and far-seeing statesman ; and 
Von Moltke, the skilful and consummate soldier. It was the united action ot 
these three, as much as the valor of the Prussian army, which not only won the 
victory, but gathered and garnered its fruits. 

All three of these men are still living (1882-83), and still active, each in his 
own sphere. The hale old king, now emperor, shows, at the age of eighty- 
six, little lessening of his sturdy powers. Bismarck, at seventy, still sways 
with his strong and stubborn will the affairs of the youthful empire. Von 
Moltke, at eighty-two, remains the foremost military figure of Germany. 

Von Moltke is a very interesting personage. From his earliest youth he has 
followed the profession of arms. He has always been every inch a soldier. 
In the course of years, he became an absolute master of his art. He had mili- 
tary science at his fingers' ends. In every emergency he knew just what to do 



NIGHT SECOND. 



97 



To be sure, he has not been one of those brilliant and dashing military 
chiefs who, by their daring exploits and sudden triumphs, become heroes in the 




VON MOLTKE. 



eyes of men. He has been a careful, studious, deliberate commander, losing 
sight of nothing, ready for every exigency, looking well ahead, and closely 
calculating upon every possibility of events. 

Yet the sturdy old soldier is by no means a dull man outside of his quarters 
or the barracks. In a quiet way, he enjoys life in many of its phases. He has 

7 



98 ZIGZAG JOURNEYS IN NORTHERN LANDS. 

always been a great reader on a great variety of subjects. He is known as one 
of the most delightful letter-writers in Germany. He is fond, too, of poetry, and 
reads history a*nd fiction with much delight. 

There is a Roman simplicity about Von Moltke's daily life. He lives in a 
building which serves as the headquarters of the general staff of the army in 
Berlin. Promptly at seven o'clock every morning, summer and winter, he enters 
his study, a plain room, with a table in the centre, covered with maps, papers, 
and books. 

There he takes his coffee, at the same time smoking a cigar. He proceeds 
at once to work, and keeps at it till nine, when his mail is brought to him. At 
eleven he takes a plain breakfast, after which he again works steadily till two, 
when he holds a reception of officers. 

The afternoon is devoted to work. After dinner, for the first time, this man of 
eighty-two enjoys some rest and recreation until eleven, at which hour he retires. 

In personal appearance, Von Moltke is tall, thin, and slightly stooping. On 
horseback, however, he straightens up, and bears himself as erect as a man of 
thirty. His close-shaven face is much wrinkled, and his profile somewhat 
reminds one of that of Julius Csesar. He never appears in any other than a 
military dress ; and is often seen walking alone in the Thiergarten at Berlin, his 
hands clasped behind him and his head bent forward, after the manner of the 
great Napoleon. 

Von Moltke married, some years ago, an English girl many years younger 
than himself. She died suddenly in 1868 ; and this event cast a shadow over 
all his later life. He has always since worn a sad and thoughtful face. He 
often visits his wife's grave in the country ; and on the mausoleum which he 
erected to her memory, he has caused to be engraved the sentence, " Love is the 
fulfilling of the law." 

The rest of the evening was spent in rehearsing Black Forest tales, 
one of the most interesting- of which we 2five here. 

SCRATCH GRAVEL ; OR, THE ENCHANTED HEN. 

Queer stories, as well as tragic ones, are related of the Black Forest ; and one 
of the most popular legends of enchantment, the Hen Trench, is as absurd as it 
is amusing. Children like this story, for among German children the industrious 
and useful hen is something of a pet. Where, except in Germany, did there ever 
o:i2:inate an heroic legend of a lien ? 



NIGHT SECOND. 



99 



The main line of the Baden railway runs southward towards Freiburg, amid 
some of the most picturesque mountain scenery of the Black Forest. The 
second station is Buhl, 
from which a delight- 
ful excursion may be 
made to Forbach and 
the Murg Valley. 

Here may be seen 
the extensive ruins of 
the old castle of Win- 
deck, which was de- 
stroyed in the year 
1 561, about which a 
very remarkable story 
is told. 

The old lords of 
Win deck were very 
quarrelsome people. 
They had feud after 
feud with the neigh- 
boring lords, and were 
continually at war with 
the Prince Bishops of 
Strasburg. 

Queer times were 
those, and queer rela- 
tions existed between 
the Church and . State. 
The Lord of Windeck 
was at one time kid- 
napped by the Bishop 
of Strasburg, and con- 
fined in a tower three 
years, — a thing that 
would not be regarded 
as a very clerical or 

spiritual proceeding to-day. A little later the Dean of Strasburg was surprised 
bv the retainers of the Lord of Windeck, and was in turn carried a prisoner to 
the gray old castle of Windeck. 




FOUNTAIN AT SCHAFFHAUSEN. 



IOO ZIGZAG JOURNEYS IN NORTHERN LANDS. 

The captive dean had a niece, a lovely girl, who was deeply attached to him. 
When she heard of his captivity she was much grieved, and set herself to 
devising plans for his release. 

At the foot of the grim old castle, in the Black Forest, there lived an old 
woman. She was wiser than her neighbors, and was regarded as a witch. She 
was able to tell inquirers whatever they wished to know, and so was as useful 
as a newspaper, in her day and generation. 

She was the last of her family. She lived alone, and her only society was 
some pure white hens, so large that the biggest of modern Shanghai fowls must 
have been mere pygmies to them. 

The people of the region were very shy of the old woman and her strange 
hens. The timid never ventured past her door after dark, after her hens went 
to roost. 

She was surprised one winter evening by a rap at her door. 

She listened. 

Tap, tap, tap ! 

" Come in." 

A fair young girl lifted the latch. 

" I am belated in the forest. Will you give me shelter ? " 

" Come in and sit down. Whence did you come ? " 

" I am on my way to the castle, but night has overtaken me." 

"You are very near it. If it were light, I could show you its towers. But 
what can a dove like you be seeking in that vulture's nest ?" 

" My dear uncle, the Dean of Strasburg, is a prisoner there." 

" I saw him when he was dragged into the castle, and very distressed and 
woe-begone the good man looked." 

" I am going there to pray for his release." 

"Umph. At that castle they don't give something for nothing. What ran- 
som can you offer ? " 

" Nothing. I hope by prayers and tears to move the count's heart." 

"I am wiser than you in the world's ways, — let me advise you. Cry with 
those pretty eyes, plead with your sweet voice, but not to the old count." 

" To whom ? " 

"To his son." 

" Will he influence his father?" 

" Girl, I have taken a liking to you. You have a kind heart ; I can see your 
disposition ; I have met but few like you in the world. I will tell you what I 
will do. I will give you one of my white hens." 

"A hen?" 



NIGHT SECOND. 



IOI 



" Yes. Go with the hen to the castle and inquire for Bernard, the count's 
son. Tell him that at daybreak the Count of Eberstein has planned an attack 
on the castle, and that you have come to warn him. Bid him fear nothing. Say 
that what he needs is a trench ; and when he asks how one is to be made, tell 




THE OLD WOMAN'S DIRECTIONS. 



him that you have brought him Scratch Gravel, the hen, who will immediately 
dig one for him." 

" How will that rescue my uncle ? " 

" You shall see." 

The maiden took the white hen, and went out into the night. The old 
woman pointed out to her the way to the castle. 

As she drew near the castle, she heard a great noise in the highway. The 
count's son was returning late from the chase. As he drew near her on horse- 
back, he accosted her politely and asked her errand. 



102 



ZIGZAG JOURNEYS IN NORTHERN LANDS. 



The beautiful girl related the story the old woman had told her. 

" I will take you to my father." 
She related her story to the count, and showed 
him the white hen. 

"Pooh! pooh!" said the count. 

" I think her story is true," said the young man. 

" Why ? " 

" I see truth written on her beautiful 
face." 

" Is that so ? I don't see it. Perhaps 
my eyes are not as good as they used to 
be. Well, well ; let us see what the white 
hen will do." 

They took the hen outside the castle, 
and put her down. Presently the gravel 
began to fly. It was like a storm. The 
air was filled with earth and stones, and 
the old count was filled with astonish- 
ment. 

" The hen is bewitched," said the 
count. 

" Did I not tell you that the 
girl is honest ? " 

" And handsome ? " 
" And handsome." 
Before daybreak the white 
hen had dug a deep trench 
around the castle. The trench 
is shown to travellers to-day, 
a very remarkable proof of the 
truth of the story, with only 
one missing link in the chain 
of evidence. 

The next morning the ene- 
my appeared, but when he 
came to the trench he forbore 
to storm the castle. 

The old count called the 
maiden into his presence. 




NIGHT SECOND. IO3 

" What reward do you ask for so great a service ? " 

" That you call the Dean of Strasburg to give thanks in the chapel." 

The count called the bishop, and attended the service. When it was over, 
he did not remand the good man to his cell. 

" I have one request to make of you," said Bernard to the maid, as they left 
the church. 

" Name it." 

" You promise to grant it ? " 

" Name it." 

" That you make your home in the castle." 

" On one condition." 

" Name it." 

" That the dean is released." 

The young count went to his father. 

" The maiden has one request to make." 

" She shall have her request." 

So the dean was released and went back to Strasburg. The maid became 
the wife of the young count, but what became of the hen the chroniclers do not 
tell. 

But the trench remains, — the Henne-Graben, — and all that is wanting to 
make the evidence of the story sure is to connect the hen with the trench, after 
four hundred years. This may not be hard; geologists make connections in like 
cases after the lapse of a thousand years. Do they not ? 



CHAPTER VII. 



EVENING THE THIRD. 



Strasburg. — A Memorable Christmas. — The Story of the Lost Organist. 




UR third night upon the Rhine was spent at Stras- 
burg. 

" The cathedral is the wonder of the city. The 
excursionist thinks of but little else during his 
stay there. Wherever he may be, the gigantic 
church is always in view. He beholds it towering- 
over all. 

" Its history is that of' Germany. It grew with the German empire, 
and has shared all its triumphs and reverses. It was founded by Clovis. 
It has been imperilled by lightning some fifty times, and has as often 
repelled the shocks of war. In the tenth century it was burned; 
in the eleventh, plundered ; and five years after it was nearly demol- 
ished by lightning. 

" It was after the last calamity that the present structure was begun. 
At one time a hundred thousand men were employed upon it : can we 
wonder that it is colossal ? 

"The giant grew. In 1140, 11 50, and 11 76 it was partly burned, 
but it rose from the flames always more great, lofty, and splendid. 

" Indulgences were offered to donors and workmen ; to contributors 
of all kinds. Men earned, or thought they earned, their salvation by 
adding their mites to the spreading magnificence. In 1 303 it is said 
that all the peasants of Alsace might be seen drawing stone into Stras- 




STRASBURG CATHEDRAL. 



EVENING THE THIRD. 



IO7 



burs for the cathedral. Master builder succeeded master builder, — 
died, — but the great work went on. In the French Revolution the 
Jacobins tore from the cathedral the statues of two hundred and thirty 
saints; but it was still a city of saints in stone and marble. In 1870, 
in the Franco-Prussian war, its roof was perforated with shells, and on 




PLATFORM OF STRASBURG CATHEDRAL. 

the 25th of August it burst into flames, and it was telegraphed over 
the world that the great cathedral was destroyed. But it stands to-day, 
majestic, regal, and beautiful, its spire piercing the sky. 

" We visited the cathedral in the afternoon. We were at once filled 
with wonder at the windows. They burned with color, and seemed to 
hang in air amid the shadows of the lofty walls. They represented 
scriptural subjects. 

" I was standing in awe, gazing upon a gorgeous circular window 
that seemed to blaze in the air like a planet, when Charlie touched my 
arm. 



108 ZIGZAG JOURNEYS IN NORTHERN LANDS. 

" ' The clock ? ' 

"'What?' 

" ' Can we not go up and see the fixings, and how it is all done ? ' 

"'I am not thinking of that toyl said I; 'you stand in a monu- 
ment of art that it has taken a thousand years to build.' 

" ' Yes ; I hope we shall be here to-morrow when the Twelve Apos- 
tles come out and the cock crows at Peter.' " 

A MEMORABLE CHRISTMAS. 

The soldiers of Aurelian, the Roman emperor, used to sing, — 
" We have slain a thousand Franks." 

"We have cut off the heads of a thousand, thousand, thousand, thousand. 
One man hath cut off the heads of a thousand, thousand, thousand, thousand, thousand; 
May he live a thousand years." 

The Franks came out of the North, and established themselves in Gaul and 
Germania during the period of the early Roman emperors. Their most 
renowned king was Clovis, with whom began the empire of France. He was 
a savage and passionate man, born to command and to conquer. He was a 
heathen. It is related of him that once, when he had enriched himself with 
spoils from some of the early Christian churches, the Bishop of Rheims desired 
that he would return a valued vase that had been taken from the cathedral. 

" Follow us to Soissons," said Clovis ; " there the booty will be divided." 

In the division of the booty, a high-spirited and selfish Frankish chieftain 
objected to the bishop's claim, and, to show his contempt for him and the 
Church, struck the vase with his battle-axe. Clovis was offended. He gave 
the bishop the vase, and soon after avenged the insult by striking the chieftain 
dead with his own battle-axe, saying, — 

" Thus didst thou to the vase at Soissons." 

His wife, Clotilde, was a Christian, and she often tried to persuade him to 
embrace the Christian faith. 

In 496 the Allemannians, a German confederation, who had been assailing 
the Roman colonies on the Rhine, crossed the river, and invaded the territory 
of the Franks. Clovis met the invaders near Cologne. A severe battle followed. 
Clovis was hard pressed. 




THUS DIDST THOU TO THE VASE OF SOISSONS. 



EVENING THE THIRD. 



Ill 



He called upon his gods, but they did not answer him. He saw he was in 
danger of being utterly defeated and losing his army. 

He had with him a servant of the queen. 

" My Lord King," said this man, " believe only on the Lord of heaven, 
whom the queen, my 
mistress, preacheth." 

Clovis raised his 
eyes in hope towards 
heaven, — 

"Christ Jesus, 
thou whom my queen 
Clotilde calleth the 
Son of God, I have 
called upon my own 
gods, and they have 
left me. Thee I in- 
voke. Give me vic- 
tory, and I will be- 
lieve in thee, proclaim 
thee to my people, 
and be baptized in 
thy name." 

The tide of battle 
now suddenly turned, 
the Allemannians 
were beaten, and their 
king was slain. 

When his queen 
had learned of his 
vow, she sent for the 
Bishop of Rheims to 
instruct him in Chris- 
tianity. He publicly 
renounced his gods, 
and his people at the 
same time accepted the queen's faith. 

Christmas Day, 496, will be ever memorable in Christian history ; it was on 
that day that the King of the Franks was baptized. 




STREET IN STRASBURG. 



H2 ZIGZAG JOURNEYS IN NORTHERN LANDS. 

The occasion was one of barbaric splendor, and such as might be expected 
of a warlike king in those rude times. The road from the palace to the bap- 
tistery, over which the king was to pass, was curtained with silk, mottoes, and 
banners, like a triumphal way. The houses of Rheims were hung with festive 
ornaments, and the baptistery itself was sprinkled with balm and "all manner of 
perfume." 

The procession moved from the palace like a pageant for a feast of victory. 
The clergy led, bearing the Gospels, standards, and cross. Hymns were chanted, 
as they swept along. Then came the Bishop of Rheims, leading the king ; after 
him, the rejoicing queen ; and lastly the neophytes who were to receive baptism 
with the king. 

On the way, the king seemed impressed with the glittering pageant. 

" Is this kingdom promised me ? " he asked. 

" No," said the bishop ; " but it is the entrance to the road that leads to it." 

At the baptistery the bishop said to the king, — 

" Lower your head with humility ; adore what thou hast burned ; burn what 
thou hast adored." 

Clovis was then solemnly baptized, and with him three thousand warriors. 
With the imposing rite, Christianity in France began, and with him began that 
great monument of the faith, Strasburg Cathedral. 

Charley Leland furnished the most interesting story on this even- 
ing. It well illustrated features of German and French musical life 
that are unknown in America. In Germany and in the French prov- 
inces the organist of the town is a very important person. The choice 
of an organist in these towns is a very interesting event, and during 
the last century excited more discussion than at the present time. 

THE YOUNG ORGANIST: A MYSTERY. 

The towns on the Rhine are all famous for their organs, and proud of the 
eminent organists they have had in the past. Each town points with pride to 
some musical legend and history. 

The story I have to tell is associated with an ancient provincial town. 

It is now hardly more than a small town, and possesses not above a thousand 
inhabitants ; but in the latter part of the last century it was more than ten times 




CLOVIS. 



EVENING THE THIRD. 



115 



its present size, and its church, now in ruins, was then one of the most beautiful 
ever seen in that part of the country. 

This church was finished in the year' 1795, and was for a long time the great 
object of curiosity for miles around. It was of the Gothic and Romanesque 
style of architecture, and was not only finely proportioned on the exterior, but 
had within a magnificence of decoration that astonished one more and more 
the longer he gazed upon it. 

The church, unlike some of the older ones standing at that time, had a mag- 
nificent organ. This had been paid for by a separate subscription, raised in 
small sums by the common people, and, having been built by skilful workmen in 
Bordeaux, was at length set up in the church amid considerable enthusiasm and 
excitement. 

But who should play this grand instrument ? How should a competent 
organist be selected ? 

The people were greatly interested in the matter, and discussed it en the 
corner of the rues, in the brasseries or taverns ; and for a period of six or eight 
weeks you might be sure, if you saw more than two people talking earnestly 
together, that they were deliberating upon the choice of an organist. 

Since the people, both high and low, had so freely contributed for the pur- 
chase of the organ, it was thought very proper that they should be allowed to 
choose a person to play it. And, the decision being thus left to the multi- 
tude, the most feasible plan that was suggested was that all should go, on an 
appointed day, to the church, and should then listen to the playing of the various 
candidates. 

There were, in all, nearly a score of aspiring musicians in and near the town ; 
and each of these, hoping for a favorable decision for himself, gave no end of 
little suppers and parties, so that the influential ones among the townsmen fared 
sumptuously from all. 

But out of the entire number there were two, between whom the choice 
really lay. These were Baptiste Lacombe and Raoul Tegot. 

The former of these had lived in the town only five years. He had come 
from Bruges, so he said ; and although he astonished everybody by his skill, he 
had not been liked from the first. ' He was very reserved and parsimonious, and 
his eye never met frankly the person with whom he talked. But no harm was 
known of him, and he found in Tranteigue plenty of exercise for his art. 

Raoul Tegot, on the contrary, was a native of the town ; and, together with 
his young son, Francois, was beloved by all. He had married one of the village 
maidens, and had been so inconsolable at her death, which occurred when Fran- 



n6 



ZIGZAG JOURNEYS IN NORTHERN LANDS. 



cois was a baby, that he never thought more of marriage, but devoted himself 

to his child and 
his art. 

He was cer- 
tainly a very able 
musician, and, 
being so univer- 
sally liked, many 
people urged that 
a public perform- 
ance be dispensed 
with, and that he 
be elected at 
once. But al- 
though Baptiste 
Lacombe was not 
liked, his skill 
found many ad- 
mirers ; and, be- 
sides, it was flat- 
tering to the 
worthy country- 
folk to think of 
sitting solemnly 
in judgment at 
the great church ; 
and so the pro- 
posed plan was 
adhered to. 

Finally, the 
weeks of antici- 
pation came to 
an end, the ap- 
pointed day was 
at hand, and, ac- 
cording to the arrangements previously made, at nine o'clock in the forenoon 
the three great doors of the church were swung open, and the throng, orderly 
and even dignified, entered and filled the edifice. 




EVENING THE THIRD. 



117 



The seats, which in French churches and cathedrals are movable, had all 
been taken away, and the crowd quite filled the whole space. All male inhab- 
itants of the town who were over twenty years of age were to vote, and each, the 
town officials and the poorest artisans alike, had one ballot. 

The great and beautiful organ took up nearly the whole of the large gallery 
over the entrance, and extended up and up into the clear-story until it was 
mingled with the supports of the roof. 

In the organ-loft the candidates were crowded together in eager expectation, 
and the glances that passed from one to another were not the kindliest. Each 
of them had been allowed several hours, at some time during the past week, for 
practice on the instrument ; and each doubtless considered himself deserving of 
the position. 

Presently, when all was still, Monseigneur Jules Emile Gautier, a very learned 
gentleman of the town, who had been chosen for that purpose, ascended two 
steps of the stairway which curved up and around the richly carved pulpit, and 
announced the name of the person who was to begin. 

I should not be able to give, in detail, the progress of the trial ; for the history 
of the affair is not minute enough for that. But suffice it to say that the last 
name on the list was Raoul Tegot ; and the name immediately preceding it was 
that of Baptiste Lacombe. 

At length, in his turn, Monsieur Lacombe, his iron-gray hair disordered, his 
hands rubbing together nervously, and his eyes flashing — as was afterwards 
remarked upon — with a malicious fire, stepped forward and along to the organ- 
seat, and for a few moments arranged his stops. 

Then he began lightly and delicately, creeping up through the varied regis- 
ters of the noble instrument, blending the beautiful sounds into wonderful 
combinations, now and then working in a sweet melody, and then again upward 
until the grand harmonies of the full organ rolled forth. There was something 
mysterious and awe-inspiring in the effort. It seemed to the people that they 
had never heard music before. 

The music ceased. The people came back to their prosaic selves again, 
looked in each other's faces, and said, with one breath, " Wonderful ! " 

Gradually they recovered their sober judgment, and then, mingled with the 
murmurs of admiration, were heard the remarks, " That is fine, but Raoul Tegot 
will make us forget it ! " " Yes, wait until you hear Raoul Tegot ! " 

Soon Gautier ascended the two steps of the pulpit, and called the name of 
their kind, generous townsman. 

All waited breathlessly. All eyes were turned towards the organ-loft. The 



Il8 ZIGZAG JOURNEYS IN NORTHERN LANDS. 

musicians there looked around and at each other. But poor Raoul Tegot could 
not be seen. 

Where was he ? The people waited and wondered, but he did not come. 
Monsieur Baptiste Lacombe was greatly excited, and was wiping the perspiration 
from his heated face. " Perhaps he was afraid to come," he ventured to remark 
to a man near him, at the same time looking out of a window. 

Several noticed his agitation ; but they only said, " Ah, mon Dieu, how he 
did play ! No wonder that he is nervous." 

The disquiet and confusion in the nave and aisles increased. 

A messenger had been sent to look for the missing man ; but he could not 
be found. 

What was to be done ? 

Finally, some friends of Monsieur Lacombe made bold to urge his immediate 
election, declaring that he had far surpassed all competitors ; and they even 
hinted at cowardice on the part of Raoul Tegot. 

This insinuation was indignantly denied by Tegot's friends, who were very 
numerous but helpless ; they knew their friend too well to believe him capable 
of such conduct. He was, they said, probably detained somewhere by an 
accident. 

But, wherever he was, he was not present ; and when a vote was taken, 
hastily, by a showing of hands, Monsieur Baptiste Lacombe had ten times as 
many ballots as any other person, and, of course, poor Monsieur Tegot, not hav- 
ing competed, was not balloted for at all. 

The people dispersed to their homes ; some in vexation that their favorite 
had not appeared, others in a little alarm at his strange absence. Young Fran- 
cois Tegot had not seen his father since early morning, and could not conjecture 
where he might be. 

The next clay the missing organist did not appear, and his friends began to 
inquire and to search for him ; but they were wholly unsuccessful. A little 
boy said that he had seen him go into the church with Monsieur Lacombe early 
that morning ; but Monsieur Lacombe said, very distinctly and with some vehe- 
mence, that the missing man had left the church an hour later to go to a cottage 
at the edge of the town, where he was to give a lesson in singing. 

So the affair lay wrapped in mystery. There were many surmises, but nothing 
definite was known. A few expressed suspicion of the rival candidate ; but the 
suspicion was too great to be thrown rashly upon anybody. Thus no progress 
in the inquiry was made. A human life did not mean so much in those stormy 
days after the Revolution as formerly; and the mysterious disappearance, without 



E VENING THE THIRD. I 1 9 

being in the least cleared up, gradually faded from men's minds and passed out 
of their conversation. 

Months and years passed away, and nothing was known of the poor man. 
'His son, now come to the years of manhood, always declared that his father 
would not have been absent from the trial willingly ; and he firmly believed that 
he had met with a violent death. More than this he would not say ; but some- 
times when he looked towards Monsieur Baptiste Lacombe, — still the respected 
organist of the church, — his eyes were observed to flash meaningly. 

There was to be a grand fete in the church, and great preparation was made. 
As the organ needed repairs, it was decided to repair it thoroughly ; and one of 
the builders from Bordeaux was sent for. 

He was to come on Thursday ; but he chanced to arrive the day before, and 
was to begin work early the following morning. That night a light glimmered 
out of the darkness of the gallery of the church. 

Two days passed. The repairing of the organ went on ; but there was much 
to be done, and it might take a week. One afternoon, as Francois passed 
through the centre of the village, two men came hurriedly out of the town-house, 
and hastened away towards the church. It was the organ-builder, very much 
excited, and one of the officials of the town. The young man, venturing on his 
well-known skill as an organist, followed them ; and the three entered the build- 
ing. A few worshippers were at the great altar, and the sacred edifice seemed 
unusually quiet and peaceful. 

The organ-builder seemed too agitated to answer the questions that the town 
official asked him, but led the way quickly to the organ-loft. " Put your foot on 
that pedal ! " he said excitedly, pointing to a particular one of the scale. 

The official was too bewildered to comply, and Francois did it for him. 

" Now try the next one ! " said he. 

Francois did so, but no sound came ; only a queer, intermittent rumbling, 
like a bounding and rebounding. 

" It does not sound," said the organ-builder. " Follow me and I will show 
you why." 

" It never has sounded since the great trial-day, years ago," muttered the 
young man. But he followed on. 

They clambered up a rickety staircase, a still more rickety ladder, and came 
to a platform at a level with the top of the organ ; and all around them, reaching 
up out of the dim light below, were the open pipes. Passing hurriedly around, 
on a narrow plank, to the back of the organ, their agitated guide paused before 
a row of immense pedal pipes, and, without allowing his own eyes to look, he 
held the lisrht that he carried for the others. 



120 



ZIGZAG JOURNEYS IN NORTHERN LANDS. 



Both looked down into the cavernous tube that he indicated, and both started! 
back in surprise and fear. 

" It is a man's legs ! " gasped the frightened town official. 

After the first moment of surprise had passed, they began to get back their 
wits ; and the young man advised that they send for several strong men and lift 
out the pipe. 

This seemed sensible, and in a half-hour the men were at hand and the pipe 
was drawn down to the level of the organ-loft and laid horizontally. The work- 




men had been informed of the nature of their work, and all were under intense 
excitement. The pipe was very long, and the body was at least five feet from 
the top. One of the workmen reached in a pole having a hook at the end, and 
the next minute drew forth the dead body of the sinister old organist, Baptiste 
Lacombe. 

There was a pause of silent horror. Nobody cared particularly for the dead 
man, but the manner of his death was terrible. 

" How did it happen ? " whispered one. 

" Perhaps it was suicide," answered another. 



EVENING THE THIRD. I 21 

They began more closely to examine the huge tube. Francois Tegot, who, 
although thus far cooler than the others, now seemed unable to stand, pointed 
to the hand of the dead man, which was tightly clenched upon a small cord. 
One of the workmen approached, and with some difficulty drew out the line ; 
and a new thrill of expectation went through the silent company when they saw, 
attached to the end of the line, an old leather bundle covered with dust. 

Young Tegot now seemed to master himself by a great effort, and, motioning 
the workman back, he advanced, and, lifting the bag tenderly out into a more 
convenient position, he said solemnly, as if to himself, " I have long suspected 
something was wrong, and now I shall know." 

Then he examined the bag, and at length took from his pocket a knife and 
carefully cut open one side. 

Despite the fact that he expected the revelation that now came, he started 
back, for the opening revealed a piece of cloth, — a coat, which even the town 
official could recollect to be the coat of the long-lost organist, Raoul Tegot,, 
Francois's father. 

The young man stepped back and sank again into his seat, and the others,, 
coming forward, laid the bag quite open, and drew forth a watch and an em- 
broidered vest ; in a pocket of the coat was found a purse. " Here is an odd 
treasure," said one of the workmen, holding up a locket of dull gold. 

Francois seized it and opened it. The color forsook his face and his eyes 
filled with tears. He simply said, — 

" My mother." 

The town official now whispered to the surprised organ-builder, that the vil- 
lanous Lacombe had killed poor Tegot on the morning of the trial, and had 
secreted the body in some unknown place and hidden the valuables here. 
Frightened by the fear of discovery, he had attempted to remove the treasures, 
had fallen into the pipe, and had thus met a horrible death. 

"There is nothing secret," said Francois, "but shall be revealed. Sin is its 
own detector, and its secrets cannot rest." 

The excitement among the townspeople was for many days even greater than 
it had been at the time of Tegot's disappearance, and many and bitter were the 
reproaches heaped upon the wicked organist's memory. 

Francois was immediately chosen organist, and held the position during his 
entire life. 



CHAPTER VIII. 



EVENING THE FOURTH. 



Seven Nights on the Rhine : 
Story of Little Mook. 



■ Heidelberg. — Students. — Student Songs. — The 
The Queer Old Lady who went to College. 




EIDELBERG," said Mr. Beal, "stands bright and 
clear beside Neckar, a branch of the Rhine, as 
though it loved the river. It is semicircled with 
blue mountain-walls, and is full of balmy air and 
cheerful faces. The streets have an atmosphere 
of hospitality. Its history dates from the Roman 
monuments on its hills, and is associated with the romantic times of 
the counts-palatine of the Rhine. 

" The world-wide fame of Heidelberg arises from its university. 
This was founded in 1386, and is the oldest in Germany. It made 
Heidelberg a student-town ; there art flourished and free thought 
grew, and it became the gem of German cities. 

" The ancient Castle of Heidelberg is one of the wonders of Ger- 
many. It is like a ruined town of palaces, and historic and poetic 
associations are as thick as are the violets among its ruins. It is said 
that Michael Angelo designed it : we cannot tell. The names of the 
masters who upreared the pile of magnificence for centuries and peo- 
pled it with statues are lost. The ivy creeps over their conceptions in 
stone and marble, and the traveller exclaims in awe, ' Can it be that 
all this glory was created for destruction ? ' 

" We visited the castle at noon. A ruin green with ivy rose before 




PALACE AT HEIDELBERG. 



EVENING THE FOURTH. 



125 



us. The sunlight fell through the open doorways, and the swallows 
flitted in and out of the window-frames into roofless chambers. 

" I was dreaming of the past: of the counts-palatine of the Rhine, 
of stately dames, orange-gardens, and splendid festivals, when one of 
the boys recalled my thoughts to the present. 

" ' Where is the tun ? ' 

" ' What tun ? ' 

" ' The one we have come to see, — the big wine-cask. It is said to 
hold two hundred and thirty-six thousand bottles of wine, or did in the 
days of the nobles.' 

" ' I remember: when I was a boy my mental picture of Heidelberg 
was a big wine-cask.' 

" ' Yes ; well, please, sir, I am a boy now.' " 

Mr. Beal then gave a brief account of 

GERMAN STUDENT LIFE. 

The town of Heidelberg nestles in one of the loveliest valleys in Europe. 
The Neckar winds between a series of steep, high, thickly wooded hills. 

It is amid such pleasant scenes that the famous university is situated, and 
that several hundred German students are gathered to pursue their studies. 

One of my chief objects in visiting Heidelberg was to see the university, 
and to observe the curious student customs of which I had heard so much ; and 
my journey was amply repaid by what I saw. 

The university itself was far less imposing than I had imagined ; compared 
with the picturesque and hoary old college palaces of Oxford and Cambridge, or 
even with our own cosey Harvard and Yale edifices and greens, it seemed very 
insignificant. 

The buildings occupy a cheerless square in a central part of the quaint 
old German town. They are very plain, modest, and unpretending. The 
lecture-rooms are on one side of the square ; in the rear are the museum and 
reading room, while opposite the lecture-rooms is a row of jewelry, clothing, 
confectionery, and other shops. I was most interested, however, in the students 
and their ways. 



126 



ZIGZAG JOURNEYS IN NORTHERN LANDS. 



As soon as you enter the town and pass up the main street, you espy groups 
of the students here and there. You are at once struck with the contrast they 
present to American or English students. Very odd to American eyes are their 
dress and manners. Let me describe one to you as an example. 



THE GERMAN STUDENT. 

•The Heidelberg student is a rather large, heavy-looking fellow, with round 
face, broad shoulders, and a very awkward gait. His hair is cropped close to 
his head, and on one side of the head, in jaunty fashion, he wears a small round 

cap, — too small by far to cover it, as 
caps generally do. It is of red or blue 
or green, and worked with fanciful fig- 
ures of gold or silver thread. 

On his feet are heavy boots, which 
rise, outside his trousers, nearly to the 
knees. His body is covered with a 
gay frock-coat, of green or gray or 
black. As he walks the street with 
his college mates, he puffs away on a 
very curious long pipe, the bowl being 
of porcelain, on which is painted some 
fanciful scene, or perhaps a view of the 
grand old castle. Sometimes the stem 
of the pipe is two or three feet long. 
In his hand he carries a cane, or rather 
stick (for it is too short to be used as 
a cane), with some curiously carved 
figure for a handle. 

Many of the Heidelberg students 
|- are attended, wherever they go, by 
a companion who is apt to pro- 
duce fear and dislike in those who 
are not accustomed to him. This is a 
small, blear-eyed, bullet-headed, blood- 
thirsty-looking bull-dog, with red eyes 
and snarling mouth. You see such dogs everywhere with the students, running 
close to their heels, and ready, at an instant's notice, to defend their masters. 





CASTLE AT HEIDELBERG. 



EVENING THE FOURTH. I 29 

Almost every Heidelberg student belongs to one of the social societies, of 
which some are called " Verbindungs," and others " Corps ; " and the caps they 
wear designate the particular societies of which they are members. 

These societies are both patriotic and social. The members devote them- 
selves to "the glory of the Fatherland ;" and they pledge themselves by oaths 
to defend and aid each other. 

Besides the cap, the students betray to what society they belong by various 
colored ribbon.s across their breasts or hung to their watch-chains. There is a 
great deal of rivalry among the societies, which results in frequent difficulties. 

The pastimes of the Heidelberg students are almost entirely confined to the 
"good times" they have in their "Verbindungs," in which they meet two nights in 
the week to sing, make funny speeches, and perform certain curious ceremonies. 

The students often make excursions to a beautiful spot on the Neckar, called 
" Wolfsbrunnen," where they obtain trout fresh from a pond, and eat them, 
nicely cooked, on tables set out under the trees near the river-side. 

Another frequent recreation is to attend the peasant fairs in the neighboring 
villages, and to take jaunts to the lovely Swetzingen gardens, or to the top of the 
Konigsthul hill, back of the castle, from which a most beautiful view of the Black 
Forest and Hartz Mountains, with the broad valley of the Rhine, is to be seen. 

On this hill is an inn where many resort to drink whey. Many of the stu- 
dents are too poor to enjoy the pastimes of the others, or even to live at the 
university without doing something to support themselves. 

These go wandering about the country in vacation time, on foot, singing in 
the villages, and receiving money from the kindly disposed, with which to pay 
the expenses of their education. As you pass through Germany you frequently 
meet parties of these poor students, who go about merrily ; and to give them a 
few kreuzers is always a pleasure. 

Mr. Beal gave from translations a few specimens of these German 
student sons;s. The first was 

GAUDEAMUS. 

Let us then rejoice, ere youth 

From our grasp hath hurried ; 
After cheerful youth is past, 
After cheerless age, at last, 

In the earth we 're buried. 
9 



130 ZIGZAG JOURNEYS IN NORTHERN LANDS. 

Where are those who lived of yore, 

Men whose days are over ? 
To the realms above thee go, 
Thence unto the shades below, 
An' thou wilt discover. 

Short and fleeting is our life, — 
Swift away 't is wearing ; 

Swiftly, too, will death be here, 

Cruel, us away to tear, 

Naught that liveth sparing. 

Long live Academia, — 

And our tutors clever ; 
All our comrades long live they, 
And our female comrades gay, 

May they bloom forever. 

Long live every maiden true, 

Who has worth and beauty ; 
And may every matron who 
Kind and good is, flourish, too, — 
Each who does her duty. 

Long may also live our state, 

And the king who guides us ; 
Long may live our town, and fate 
Prosper each Mecasnas great, 
Who good things provides us. 

Perish melancholy woe, 

Perish who derides us ; 
Perish fiend, and perish so 
Every antiburschian foe 

Who for laughing chides us. 



Mr. Beal, finding the Class interested, continued the subject by 
some account of one of the most popular writers of German songs. 

HEINE. 

The songs of Heine are unmatched in German literature, and have been 
translated into all European tongues. Their beauty of expression, and sugges- 




GERMAN STUDENTS. 



EVENING THE FOURTH. I 33 

tive and evasive meanings, have made them household words in Germany, and 
favorite quotations in France and England. 

The career of Heine was exceptionably brilliant, and he won tributes of 
admiration that have seldom been equalled. It is said that on the appearance 
of his " Reisebilder " in 1826-31, "young Germany became intoxicated with 
enthusiasm." His writings on republicanism not only won the heart of the 
people, but carried his influence into other countries. 

From his youth Heine was troubled by thoughts of personal religious re- 
sponsibility. There were periods when he earnestly sought to know man's true 
relations to God. He sought the evidence of truth, however, more from nature, 
philosophy, and history, than by the prayers and the faith which God's Word 
inculcates. 

He was born a Jew, but abandoned Judaism and was baptized in the 
Lutheran Church. Then he became a free-thinker. He studied various phi- 
losophies and systems of belief, but was not able to arrive at any satisfactory 
conclusions. 

In 1847 ne was attacked by a strange disease. It paralyzed his body, and 
confined him for many years to his chair. For seven years he was propped up 
by pillows, and read his praises on a couch of suffering, and they made his life 
more sad. 

"What good," he said, in despair, "does it do me to hear that my health is 
drunk in cups of gold, when I can only wet my lips with barley-water ? " 

In this condition he read "Uncle Tom's Cabin." It revealed to him the 
truth that religion is a matter of experience rather than philosophy, and 
that the humblest may receive the evidence of its truth through simple faith 
in Christ. 

" With all my learning," he said, " the poor negro knew more about religion 
than I do now, and I must come to a knowledge of the truth in the same hum- 
ble way as poor Uncle Tom." 

He left this testimony in his will : " I have cast aside all philosophical pride, 
and have again felt the power of religious truth." 

I will recite to you one of the songs of Heine, which is popular among the 
German students. 

THE LORELEI. 

I know not whence it rises, 

This thought so full of woe ; 
But a tale of times departed 

Haunts me, and will not go. 



T34 ZIGZAG JOURNEYS IN NORTHERN LANDS. 

The air is cool, and it darkens, 

And calmly flows the Rhine ; 
The mountain-peaks are sparkling 

In the sunny evening-shine. 

And yonder sits a maiden, 

The fairest of the fair; 
With gold is her garment glittering, 

And she combs her golden hair: 

With a golden comb she combs it ; 

And a wild song singeth she, 
That melts the heart with a wondrous 

And powerful melody. 

The boatman feels his bosom 

With a nameless longing move ; 
He sees not the gulfs before him, 

His gaze is fixed above, 

Till over boat and boatman 

The Rhine's deep waters run: 
And this, with her magic singing, 

The Lorelei has done ! 

Among the pleasing stories related on this evening was " Little 
Mook," by Hauff, and a poetic account of a " Queer Old Lady who 
went to College." 

LITTLE MOOK. 

There once lived a dwarf in the town of Niceu, whom the people called 
Little Mook. He lived alone, and was thought to be rich. He had a very 
small body and a very large head, and he wore an enormous turban. 

He seldom went into the streets, for the reason that ill-bred children there 
followed and annoyed him. They used to cry after him, — 

'• Little Mook, O Little Mook, 
Turn, oh, turn about and look ! 
Once a month you leave your room, 
With your head like a balloon : 
Try to catch us, if you can ; 
Turn and look, my little man." 




ENTRANCE TO HEIDELBERG CASTLE. 



EVENING THE FOURTH. 



137 



I will tell you his history. 

His father was a hard-hearted man, and treated him unkindly because he 
was deformed. The old man at last died, and his relatives drove the dwarf 
away from his home. 

He wandered into the strange world with a cheerful spirit, for the strange 
world was more kind to him 
than his kin had been. 

He came at last to a strange 
town, and looked around for 
some face that should seem piti- 
ful and friendly. He saw an 
old house, into whose door a 
great number of cats were pass- 
ing. " If the people here are so 
good to cats, they may be kind 
to me," he thought, and so he 
followed them. He was met by 
an old woman, who asked him 
what he wanted. 

He told his sad story. 

" I don't cook any but for 
my darling pussy cats," said the 
beldame ; " but I pity your hard 
lot, and you may make your 
home with me until you can 
find a better." 

So Little Mook was em- 
ployed to look after the cats and 
kittens. 

The kittens, I am sorry to say, 
used to behave very badly when the old dame went abroad ; and when she came 
home and found the house in confusion, and bowls and vases broken, she used 
to berate Little Mook for what he could not help. 

While in the old lady's service he discovered a secret room in which were 
magic articles, among them a pair of enormous slippers. 

One clay when the old lady was out the little dog broke a crystal vase. 
Little Mook knew that he would be held responsible for the accident, and he 
resolved to escape and try his fortune in the world again. He would need good 
shoes, for the journey might be long ; so he put on the big slippers and ran away. 




LITTLE MOOK. 



138 ZIGZAG JOURNEYS IN NORTHERN LANDS. 

Ran ? What wonderful slippers those were ! He had only to say to them, 
" Go ! " and they would impel him forward with the rapidity of the wind. They 
seemed to him like wings. 

" I will become a courier," said Little Mook, " and so make my fortune, sure." 

So Little Mook went to the palace in order to apply to the king. 

He first met the messenger-in-ordinary. 

"What !" said he, "you want to be the king's messenger, — you with your 
little feet and great slippers ! " 

" Will you allow me to make a trial of speed with your swiftest runner ? " 
asked Little Mook. 

The messenger-in-ordinary told the king about the little man and his appli- 
cation. 

" We will have some fun with him," said the king. "Let him run a race 
with my first messenger for the sport of the court." 

So it was arranged that Little Mook should try his speed with the swiftest 
messenger. 

Now the king's runner was a very tall man. His legs were very long and 
slender ; he had little flesh on his body. He walked with wonderful swiftness, 
looking like a windmill as he strode forward. He was the telegraph of his 
times, and the king was very proud of him. 

The next day the king, who loved a jest, summoned his court to a meadow 
to witness the race, and to see what the bumptious pygmy could do. Every- 
body was on tiptoe of expectation, being sure that something amusing would 
follow. 

When Little Mook appeared he bowed to the spectators, who laughed at him. 
When the signal was given for the two to start, Little Mook allowed the runner 
to go ahead of him for a little time, but when the latter drew near the king's 
seat he passed him, to the wonder of all the people, and easily won the race. 

The king was delighted, the princess waved her veil, and the people all 
shouted, " Huzza for Little Mook ! " 

So Little Mook became the royal messenger, and surpassed all the runners 
in the world with his magic slippers. 

But Little Mook's great success with his magic slippers excited envy, and 
made him bitter enemies, and at last the king himself came to believe the 
stories of his enemies, and turned against him and banished him from his 
kingdom. 

Little Mook wandered away, sore at heart, and as friendless as when he had 
left home and the house of the old woman. Just beyond the confines of the 
kingdom he came to a grove of fisr-trees full of fruit. 



EVENING THE FOURTH. 



l 39 



He stopped to rest and refresh himself with the fruit. There were two trees 
that bore the finest figs he had ever seen. He gathered some figs from one of 
them, but as he was eating them 
his nose and ears began to 
grow, and when he looked down 
into a clear, pure stream near 
by, he saw that his head had 
been changed into a head like 
a donkey. 

He sat down under the 
other fig-tree in despair. At 
last he took up a fig that had 
fallen from this tree, and ate it. 
Immediately his nose and ears 
became smaller and smaller 
and resumed their natural 
shape. Then he perceived that 
the trees bore magic fruit. 

"Happy thought!" said 
Little Mook. " I will go back 
to the palace and sell the fruit 
of the first tree to the royal 
household, and then I will turn 
doctor, and give the donkeys 
the fruit of the second tree as 
medicine. But I will not give 
the old king any medicine." 

• Little Mook gathered the two kinds of figs, and returned to the palace and 
sold that of the first tree to the butler. 

Oh, then there was woe in the palace ! The king's family were seen wan- 
dering around with donkeys' heads on their shoulders. Their noses and ears 
were as long as their arms. The physicians were sent for and they held a con- 
sultation. They decided on amputation ; but as fast as they cut off the noses 
and ears of the afflicted household, these troublesome members grew out again, 
longer than before. 

Then Little Mook appeared with the principles and remedies of homoeopa- 
thy. He gave one by one of the sufferers the figs of the second tree, and they 
were cured. He collected his fees, and having relieved all but the king he fled, 
taking his homoeopathic arts with him. The king wore the head of a donkey 
to his latest day. 




140 



ZIGZAG JOURNEYS IN NORTHERN LANDS. 




THE QUEER OLD LADY WHO WENT TO COLLEGE. 

There was a queer old lady, and she had lost her youth ; 

She bought her a new mirror, 
And it told to her the truth. 

Did she break the truthful mirror? 
Oh, no, no ; no, no, no, no. 



EVENING THE FOURTH. 



141 



But she bought some stays quite rare, 

Some false teeth and wavy hair, 

Some convex-concave glasses such as men of culture wear, 

And then she looked again, 

And she said, " I am not plain, — 

I am not plain, 't is plain, 

Not very, very plain, 
I did not think that primps and crimps 

Would change a body so. 
I '11 take a book on Art, 
And press it to my heart, 
And 1 '11 straightway go to college, 

Where I think I '11 catch a beau." 




'And it told to her the truth 



She made her way to college just as straight as straight could be, 
And she asked for the Professor of the new philosophic ; 

He met her with a smile 

And said, " Pray rest awhile, 
And come into my parlor and take a cup of tea. 

We will talk of themes celestial, — 
Of the flowery nights in June 

When blow the gentle zephyrs ; 
Of the circle round the moon ; 

Of the causes of the causes." 
These college men are quite and very much polite, 
And when you call upon them they you straightway in invite. 




" Not very, very plain." 



But the lady she was modest, 

And she said, " You me confuse ; 
I have come, O man of wisdom, 

To get a bit of news. 
There 's a problem of life's problems 

That often puzzles me : 
Tell me true, O man of Science, 

When my wedding-day will be." 

IV. 

Quick by the hand he seized her, 

He of the philosophic, 
And his answer greatly pleased her 

When they had taken tea : 
" 'T will be, my fair young lady, 

When you are twenty-three ! " 




"They you straightway in 
invite." 



j 42 ZIGZAG JOURNEYS IN NORTHERN LANDS. 



At her window, filled with flowers, 
Then she waited happy hours, 
Scanned the byways and the highways 

To see what she could see. 
If the postman brought a letter, 
It was sure to greatly fret her, — 
Fret her so her maid she 'd frighten, 

If a dun it proved to be. 
If it came not from a lover, 
Sadly she her face would cover, 
Hide her face and say in sorrow, 
" Truly he will come to-morrow, 
For he knew, that man of science, 

And I 'm ahnost twenty-three." 



He deceived her, he deceived her, 
Oh, that too kind man deceived her, — 
He of compasses and lenses, 
He of new-found influences, 

He of the philosophic 
Oh the chatterer, oh the flatterer, 
Oh the smatterer in science, 

To whom all things clear should be ! 
Had he taken the old almanac, 
That true guide to worldly wisdom, 
He would have seen that there was something - 
Some stray figure, some lost factor, 
Something added the extractor — 

Wrong in his chronologie, 

In his learned chronologie. 

MORAL. 

There are few things, one, two, three, 
In the earth, the air, and sea, 
That the schoolmen do not know. 
When you 're going to catch a beau, 
And a few like occupations, 

In a few things here below, 

Men of wisdom do not know : 
And to them for these few items 

It is never wise to <*o. 



CHAPTER IX. 

FIFTH MEETING FOR RHINE STORIES. 

Seven Nights on the Rhine: — Worms. — Luther's Monument. — The Story of 
Siegfried and the Dragon. — Mayence. — Boat Journey. — Stories of the 
Castles on the Middle Rhine. — The Wonderful Story of the Lorelei.— 
Kerner. 




R. BEAL continued the narrative of travel at the 
fifth meeting of the Club for the rehearsal of 
Rhine stories. 

" We passed over a road along the right bank 
of the Rhine towards Worms. We journeyed 
amid green forests, and past fields which had heaped up harvests 
for a thousand years. Spires gleamed on the opposite bank, and in 
the flat landscape Worms came to view, the Rhine flowing calmly by. 

"We stopped at Worms to see the cathedral and the Luther Monu- 
ment. It is a dull town. We recalled that it was here great Caesar 
stood, and Attila drove his cavalry of devastation over the Rhine. 
Here lived the hero of German classic song, — Siegfried. The cathe- 
dral has a monumental history. In 772 war was declared in it against 
the Saxons. Here was held the famous Diet of Worms at which 
Luther appeared, and said, — 

" ' Here I stand ; I cannot do otherwise. God help me.' 

" The cathedral is of the style called Romanesque. It is lofty and 
gloomy. Worms itself is a shadowy and silent city as compared with 
the past. 

" The Luther Monument is a history of Protestantism in stone and 



146 



ZIGZAG JOURNEYS IN NORTHERN LANDS. 



bronze. It is one of the noblest works of art of modern times, and its 
majesty and unity are a surprise to the traveller. Luther is of course 
the central, figure. He stands with his Bible in his hands, and his 
face upturned to heaven. Around him are the figures of the great 
reformers before the Reformation : Wycliffe, of England ; Waldo, of 




A BATTLE BETWEEN FRANKS AND SAXONS. 



France; Huss, of Bohemia; and Savonarola, of Italy. The German 
princes who befriended and sustained the Reformer occupy conspicu- 
ous places, and the immense group presents a most impressive scene, 
associated with lofty character and commanding talent. 

" We went to the place where Luther sat beneath a tree, when his 
companions sought to dissuade him from entering Worms. 

' I would go to Worms,' he said, ' were there as many devils as 
there are tiles upon the roofs.' 

;i The high pitched roofs and innumerable tiles on them everywhere 
met our eyes, and recalled the famous declaration. 

" I should here tell you the 




LUTHER'S HOUSE. 



FIFTH MEETING FOR RHINE STORIES. 



I49 



STORY OF SIEGFRIED AND THE NIBELUNG HEROES. 

The early nations of Europe seem to have come out of the northwest of 
Asia. The Celts or Gauls came first ; other tribes followed them. These latter 
tribes called themselves Deutsch, or the people. They settled between the Alps 
and the Baltic Sea. In time they came to be called Ger-men, or war-men. 
They lived in rude huts and held the lands in common. They were strong and 
brave and prosperous. 




A TRIBE OF GERMANS ON AN EXPEDITION. 



They worshipped the great god Woden. His day of worship was the fourth 
of the week ; hence Woden's-day, or Wednesday. 

Woden was an all-wise god. Ravens carried to him the news from earth. 
His temples were stone altars on desolate heaths, and human sacrifices were 
offered to him. 

Woden had a celestial hall called Valhall, and thither he transported the 
souls of the brave ; hence the name Valhalla. 

There were supposed to be water gods in the rivers and elves throughout 
the forest. The heavens were peopled with minor gods, as well as the great 
gods, and the spirits of the unseen world could make themselves visible or in- 
visible to men as they chose. 



I c ZIGZAG JOURNEYS IN NORTHERN LANDS. 

Most great nations have heroes of song sung by the poets, like those of 
Homer and Virgil. The early German hero was Siegfried, and the song or 
epic that celebrates his deeds is called the Nibelungen Lied. Its story is as 
follows. 

In the Land of Mist there was a lovely river, where dwelt little people. who 
could assume any form they wished. One of them was accustomed to change 
himself into an otter when he went to the river to fish. As he was fishing one 
day in this form he was caught by Loki, one of the great gods, who immediately 
despatched him and took off his skin. 

When his brothers Fafner and Reginn saw what had been done, they re- 
proved Loki severely, and demanded of him that he should fill the otter's skin 
with gold, and give it to them as an atonement for his great misdeed. 

"I return the otter skin and give you the treasure you ask," said Loki; 
" but the gift shall bring you evil." 

Their father took the treasure, and Fafner murdered his father to secure it 
to himself, and then turned into a dragon or serpent to guard it, and to keep his 
brother from finding it. 

Reginn had a wonderful pupil, named Siegfried, a Samson among the inhab- 
itants of the land. He was so strong that he could catch wild lions and hang 
them by the tail over the walls of the castle. Reginn persuaded this pupil to 
attack the serpent and to slay him. 

Now Siegfried could understand the songs of birds ; and the birds told him 
that Reginn intended to kill him ; so he slew Reginn and himself possessed the 
treasure. 

Serpents and dragons were called worms in Old Deutsch, and the Germans 
called the town where Siegfried lived Worms. 

Siegfried had bathed himself in the dragon's blood, and the bath made his 
skin so hard that nothing could hurt him except in one spot. A leaf had fallen 
on this spot as he was bathing. It was between his shoulders. 

Siegfried, like Samson, had a curious wife. His romances growing out of his 
love for this woman would fill a volume. She had learned where his one vulner- 
able spot lay. But she was a lovely lady, and the wedded pair lived very happily 
together at Worms. 

At last a dispute arose between them and their relatives, and the latter 
sought to destroy Siegfried's life. His wife went for counsel to a supposed 
friend, but real enemy, named Hagen. 

" Your husband is invulnerable," said Hagen. 

"Yes, except in one spot." 



FIFTH MEETING FOR RHINE STORIES. 



151 



" And you know the place ? " 

"Yes." 

" Sew a patch on his garment over it, and I shall know how to protect 
him." 

The poor wife had revealed a fatal secret. She sewed a patch on her hus- 
band's garment between the shoulders, and now thought him doubly secure. 







THE MURDER OF SIEGFRIED. 

There was to be a great hunting-match, and Siegfried entered into it as a 
champion. He rode forth in high spirits, but on his back was the fatal patch. 

Hagen contrived that the wine should be left behind. 

" That," he said, " will compel the hunters to lie down on their breasts to 
drink from the streams when they become thirsty. Then will come my oppor- 
tunity." 

He was right in his conjecture. 

Siegfried became tired and thirsty. He rode up to a stream. He threw 
himself on his breast to drink, exposing his back, on which was the patch, reveal- 
ing the vulnerable place. 



152 ZIGZAG JOURNEYS IN NORTHERN LANDS. 

There he was stabbed by a conspirator employed by Hagen. 

They bore the dead body of the hero down the Rhine, and lamented the de- 
parted champion as the barque drifted on. The scene has been portrayed in art 
and song, and has left its impress on the poetic associations of the river. You 
will have occasion to recall this story again in connection with Drachenfels. 



" Our fifth night on the Rhine was passed at Mayence, at the Hotel 
de Hollande, near the landing-place of the Rhine steamers. The 
balconies and windows of the hotel afforded fine views of the river 
and of the Taunus Mountains. 

x " Mayence is said to have arisen by magic. The sorcerer Nequam 
wished for a new city ; he came to this point of the Rhine, spoke the 
word, and the city rose. It is almost as old as the Christian era. 
Here the Twenty-second Roman legion came, after its return from 
the conquest of Jerusalem, and brought Christianity with it, through 
some of its earlv converts. It was one of the errand cities of Charle- 
magne, who erected a palace at Lower Ingelheim, and introduced the 
cultivation of the vine. Here lived Bishop Hatto, of bad repute, and 
good Bishop Williges. 

" Here rose Gutenberg, the inventor of printing, and here Thor- 
waldsen's statue of the great inventor announces to the traveller what 
a great light of civilization appeared to the world. 

" At Mayence we began the most delightful zigzag we had ever 
made, — a boat journey on the Rhine. 

" ' If you would see the Rhine of castles and vineyards,' said an 
English friend, ' hire a boat. The most famous river scenery in the 
world lies between Mayence and Cologne. If you take the railroad 
you will merely escape it in a few hours ; if a steamboat, your curiosity 
will be excited, but not gratified ; it will all vanish like a dream : take 
a boat, my good American friend, — take a boat.' 

" Between Mayence and Bingen the Rhine attains its greatest 
breadth. It is studded with a hundred islands. Its banks are con- 



FIFTH MEETING FOR RHINE STORIES. 



*53 




MAYENCE. 



tinuous vineyards. Here is the famous district called the Rheingau, 
which extends along the right bank of the river, where the Rhine 
wines are produced. 



^4 ZIGZAG JOURNEYS IN NORTHERN LANDS. 

"It is all a luxurious wine-garden, — the Rheingau. The grapes 
purple beside ruins and convents, as well as on their low artificial 
trellises, and everywhere drink in the sunshine and grow luscious in 
the mellow air. 

" Castles, palaces, ruins, towers, and quaint towns all mingle with 
the vineyards. A dreamy light hangs over the scene ; the river is 
calm, and the boat drifts along in an atmosphere in which the spirit 
of romance seems to brood, as though indeed the world's fairy tales 
were true. 

" We came in sight of Bingen. 

" ' We must stop there,' said Willie Clifton. 

" ' Why ? ' I asked curiously. 

" ' Because — well — 

" For I was born at Bingen, — at Bingen on the Rhine."' 

" He then repeated slowly and in a deep, tender voice the beginning 
of a poem that almost every schoolboy knows : — 

' A soldier of the Legion lay dying in Algiers, 
There was lack of woman's nursing, there was dearth of woman's tears ; 
But a comrade stood beside him, while his life-blood ebbed away, 
And bent, with pitying glances, to hear what he might say. 
The dying soldier faltered, as he took that comrade's hand, 
And he said, " I nevermore shall see my own, my native land : 
Take a message and a token to some distant friends of mine ; 
For I was born at Bingen, — at Bingen on the Rhine." ' 

" Bingen is a town of about seven thousand inhabitants, and is en- 
gaged in the wine trade. We visited the chapel of St. Rochus, on a 
hill near the town, because one of our party had somewhere read that 
Bulwer had said that the view from St. Rochus was the finest in the 
world. 

" Again upon the river, all the banks seemed filled with castles, 
villages, and ruins. Every hill had its castle, every crag its gray tower. 
We drifted by the famous Mouse Tower, which stands at the end of 



FIFTH MEETING FOR RHINE STORIES. 



J 55 



an island meadow fringed with osier twigs. It is little better than a 

square tower of a common village church, 
nor is there any truth in the story that 
Southey's poem has associated with it. 
Poor Bishop Hatto, of evil name and 
<jh memory ! He died in 970, and the tower 
1 was not built until the thirteenth cen- 




tury. For aught that is known, he 
was a good man ; he certainly was 
not eaten up by rats or mice. The le- 
gend runs : — ; '\_ 

" In the tenth century Hatto, Bishop 
of Fulda, was raised to the dignity of Arch- 
bishop of Mayence. He built a strong tower on \ x 
the Rhine, wherein to collect tolls from the vessels 
that passed. 

" A famine came to the Rhine countries. Hatto 



156 ZIGZAG JOURNEYS IN NORTHERN LANDS. 

had vast granaries, and the people came to him for bread. He refused 
them, and they importuned him. He bade them go into a large gran- 
ary, one day, promising them relief. When they had entered the 
building, he barred the doors and set it on fire, and the famishing 
beggars, among whom were many women and children, were con- 
sumed. 

" The bishop listened to the cries of the dying for mercy as the 
building was burning. 

" ' Hark ! ' he said, ' hear the rats squeak.' 

" When the building fell millions of rats ran from the ruins to the 
bishop's palace. They filled all the rooms and attacked the people. 
The bishop was struck with terror. 



' " I '11 go to my tower on the Rhine,'" replied he ; 
" 'T is the safest place in Germany : 
The walls are high, and the shores are steep, 
And the stream is strong, and the water deep." 

' Bishop Hatto fearfully hastened away, 
And he crossed the Rhine without delay, 
And reached his tower, and barred with care 
All windows, doors, and loopholes there. 

'He laid him down and closed his eyes; 
But soon a scream made him arise : 
He started, and saw two eyes of flame 
On his pillow, from whence the screaming came. 

' He listened and looked ; it was only the cat : 
But the bishop he grew more fearful for that ; 
For she sat screaming, mad with fear 
At the army of rats that were drawing near. 

' For they have swam over the river so deep, 
And they have climbed the shores so steep ; 
And up the tower their way is bent, 
To do the work for which they were sent. 



FIFTH MEETING FOR RHINE STORIES. 1 57 

' They are not to be told by the dozen or score : 
By thousands they come, and by myriads and more : 
Such numbers had never been heard of before, 
Such a judgment had never been witnessed of yore. 

' Down on his knees the bishop fell, 
And faster and faster his beads did tell, 
As, louder and louder drawing near, 
The gnawing of their teeth he could hear. 

'And in at the windows, and in at the door, 
And through the walls, helter-skelter they pour, 
And down from the ceiling, and up through the floor, 
From the right and the left, from behind and before, 
From within and without, from above and below, 
And all at once to the bishop they go. 

' They have whetted their teeth against the stones ; 
And now they pick the bishop's bones : 
They gnawed the flesh from every limb ; 
For they were sent to do judgment on him ! ' 

" We passed ruin after ruin which the boatman said were ' robber 
castles.' 

" ' And what do you mean by robber castles ? ' asked Herman. 

" ' The old lords of the Rhine used to collect tolls from the vessels 
that passed their estates. The tax was regarded as unjust, and hence 
the lords were themselves called robbers, and their castles robber 
castles. 1 

" One of these castles, called the Pfalzgrafenslein, is said to resemble 
a stone ship at anchor in the river. It was formerly a rock, with one 
little hut upon it, and it was associated with a touching incident of 
history. 

" Louis le Debonnaire, the son of Charlemagne, became weary of 
state-craft and the crown. He felt that his end was near. He desired 
to die where he could hear the waves of the Rhine. He was taken to 
this rock, and there with the ebb of the river his troubled life ebbed 
away. 



153 



ZIGZAG JOURNEYS IN NORTHERN LANDS. 



" Most of the old castles are built on the narrows of the river. These 
narrows are between high rocks and rocky hills. They are in the 
Middle Rhine, or between Mayence and Bonn. The Middle Rhine 
has some thirty conspicuous castles on its banks. It is sometimes 




VIEW ON THE RHINE. 



called the Castellated Rhine, and its narrows are termed the Castel- 
lated Rhine Pass. 

" On, on we drifted. Every high rock seemed a gateway to some 
new scene of beauty ; wonder followed wonder. 

" And now the water seemed agitated. Dark rocks projected into 
the river ; the view was intercepted. 

" The boatman conversed in an animated way with me, and I looked 
up to a high rock with an interested expression and an incredulous 
smile. 

" He turned to us quietly and said, — 

" ' This is the Lorelei Pass.' 

"He presently added, — 

" ' That is the Lorelei.' 




THE LORELEI. 



FIFTH MEETING FOR RHINE STORIES. l6l 



THE WONDERFUL STORY OF THE LORELEI. 

Who has not heard it, repeated it in verse, echoed it in song? 

It is the best known of the Rhine tales, not because it is the most interest- 
ing, but because it is associated with the noblest scenery of the river, with 
poetry and music. It is hardly equal to such legends as the " Drachenfels " 
and the "Two Brothers," but it is lifted into historic prominence by its 
associations. 

Still the story is richer in incident than the mere song would indicate. The 
origin and development of the popular legend is as follows : — 

In the shadowy days of the Palatines of the Rhine, — shadowy because of 
ignorance and superstition, — the boatmen among the rocks above St. Goar on 
the Rhine used to fancy that they could see at night the form of a beautiful 
nymph on the " Lei," or high rock of the river. Her limbs were moulded of 
air ; a veil of mist and gems covered her face ; her hair was long and golden, 
and her eyes shone like the stars. Her robe was blue and glimmering like 
the waves, decked with water flowers and zoned with crystals. She was most 
distinctly seen by pale moonlight. 

They called this recurring vision of mist and gems Lore, the enchantress. 
They believed that her favor brought good luck, but her ill will destruction. 

Nothing could be more natural than for the simple fishermen to think that 
they saw a form of mist, very bright and lovely, above the rocks at night, when 
once the story had been told them. 

In the clays of superstition such a story was sure to grow. 

It was said that this Undine of the Rhine, the enchantress Lore, had a most 
melodious and seductive voice. When she sang those who heard her listened 
spellbound. If the boatmen displeased her, she entranced them by her song, 
and drew them into the whirlpools under the rocks, where they disappeared for- 
ever. To the landsmen who offended her, she made the river appear like a road, 
and led them to fall over the rocks to destruction. With all her beauty and 
charms, she was the evil genius of the place. 

Herman, the only son of the last Palatine, a youth of some fifteen summers, 
was delicate in health. Instead of devoting himself to chivalrous exercises, he 
gave his attention to music and song. 

One night he and his father were descending the Rhine, when he felt an 
inspiration come over him to sing. His voice was silvery and flute-like, and 
breathed the emotional sentiment of the heart of youth. As the boat drew 



1 62 ZIGZAG JOURNEYS IN NORTHERN LANDS. 

near the Lei, Lore, the enchantress, heard the song, and she herself became 
spellbound by the sentiment and deep feeling expressed in the mellifluent 
music. 

She tried to answer him, but her voice failed. 

As Herman grew to manhood his ill health disappeared, and his character 
changed. He became rugged and manly, and abandoned the arts for the chase, 
horsemanship, and the preparations for martial contests. 

He became a renowned hunter. He rode the wildest steeds, and ventured 
into places and merrily blew his horn where no huntsman dared follow him. 

The enchantress Lore, from the time she had heard his song, disappeared 
from the rocks. The change that came over his person and character seemed 
like enchantment: was the siren invisibly following him ? 

And now a strange thing began to startle him by its mystery. When alone, 
crossing a wild mountain or a ravine, he would seek to keep up a communication 
by shouting through his hands, — 

" Hillo-ho-o-o-o ! " 

Immediately a sweet voice would answer, — 

" Ho-o-o-o ! " 

He would follow the sound. 

" Hillo-ho-o-o-o ! " 

" Ho-o-o-o ! " 

It always led him towards the Lei. 

He became alarmed at this occurrence. He believed that he was followed 
by a spirit, and that a spell was upon him, which boded destruction. He 
resolved to abandon the chase and devote himself to the arts again. 

He was sitting by the window of the castle on a summer evening. A pur- 
ple mist lay on the forests and river, and the moon poured her light over it, 
making all things appear like an enchanted realm. 

He heard a nightingale singing in the woods. Did ever a bird sing like 
that ? He listened. There was a witchery in the song. He rose and went 
into the woods. The song filled the air like a shower of golden notes. He 
followed it. It retreated. He went on. But the song, more and more enchant- 
ing and alluring, floated into the shadowy distance. He found himself at last 
->_«**otfi the Lei. 

He beheld there a dazzling grotto, full of stalactites, and a nymph of won- 
drous beauty on a coral throne. He felt his being thrill with love. He was 
about to enter the grotto, when, oh thought of darkness and horror ! the 
recollection of the, enchantress came to him, and he crossed his bosom and 
broke the spell. He hurried home with a beating heart. 



FIFTH MEETING FOR RHINE STORIES. 



16 




moon rose in full 
the water with 

Herman took a lute 

It was answered from 
ful ! The air seemed en- 
melody. Herman was 
with delight. The priest 

" The Lore ! In the 
Virgin, let us make for 

Herman's eyes were 
fixed on the rock. There 
she sat, the siren ! 

The priest plied the 
oar, to turn the boat 
back. 

But nearer, nearer 
drifted the boat to the 
rock. 

Nearer and nearer ! 

The moon poured 
her white light upon the 
crags. 

Nearer and nearer ! 

There was a shock. 



But the temptation and vision had proved fatal to 
him. He was never himself again. He dreamed 
constantly of Lore. All his longings were for her. 

At eve he would hear the same nightingale 
singing. He would long to follow the voice. It 
inflamed his love. His will, his senses, all that 
made life desirable, were yielding to the fatal pas- 
sion. 

He went to a good priest for advice. 
" Father Walter, what shall I do ? " 

" Shake off the spell, or it will end in 
your ruin." 

One day Herman and the priest 

went fishing on the Rhine. The 

boat drifted near the Lei. The 

MUt s pl en dor in the clear sky, strewing 

countless gems. 

and filled the air with music, 
the Lei. Oh, how wonder- 
tranced with the spiritual 
beside himself 
also heard it. 

name of the 
the shore ! " 




164 ZIGZAG JOURNEYS IN NORTHERN LANDS. 

The boat was shivered like glass. 

Walter crossed himself, and floated on the waves to the shore. 

But Herman — he was never seen again ! 

Mr. Beal's narrative nearly filled the evening. A few stories 
were told by other members of the Club, but they were chiefly 
from Grimm, and hence are somewhat familiar. 

Charlie Leland closed the meeting with a free translation of a 
poem from Kerner. 

Justinus Kerner was born in Ludwigsburg, in 1786. He was a physician 
and a poet. He belonged to the spiritualistic school of poets, and his illustra- 
tions of the power of mind over matter, in both prose and poetry, are often 
very forcible. The following poem will give you a view of his estimate of 
physical as compared with mental power : — 

IN THE OLD CATHEDRAL. 

In the vaults of the dim cathedral, 

In the gloaming, weird and cold, 
Are the coffins of old King Ottmar, 

And a poet, renowned of old. 

The king once sat in power, 

Enthroned in pomp and pride, 
And his crown still rests upon him, 

And his falchion rusts beside. 

And near to the king the poet 

Has slumbered in darkness long, 
But he holds in his hands, as an emblem. 

The harp of immortal song. 

Hark ! 't is the castles falling ! 

Hark ! 't is the war-cry dread ! 
But the monarch's sword is not lifted, 

There, in the vaults of the dead ! 

List to the vernal breezes ! 

List to the minstrels' strain ! 
'Tis the poet's song they are singing, 

And the poet lives again. 



CHAPTER X. 

NIGHT THE SIXTH. 

The Beautiful Rhine. — Coblentz. — A Zigzag to Weimar. — Goethe and Schil- 
ler. — The Strange Story of Faust. — Faust in Art. — The Seven Mountains. 
— The Drachenfels. — The Story of the Dragon. — Stories of Frederick 
the Great. — The Unnerved Hussar. 




R. BEAL occupied much of the time this evening. 
He thus continued the narrative of travel : — 



" From St. Goar to Boppard, two stations at 
which the Rhine boats call, is about an hour's 
run ; but the journey is an unfailing" memory. 
The rocky walls of the river, the continuous villages, the quaint 
churches amid the vineyards and cherry orchards, the mossy meadows 
about the mountains, the white-kerchiefed villagers, present so many 
varied and delightful objects, that the eye feasts on beauty, and won- 
ders expectantly at what the next turn of the river will reveal. The 
rock shadows in the water contrast with the bright scenes above the 
river, and add an impression of grandeur to the effect of the whole, 
like shadows on the cathedral walls that heighten the effect of the 
rose-colored windows. Beautiful, beautiful, is the Rhine. 

" Grand castles, perched on high cliffs and mountain walls, surprise 
us, delight us, and vanish behind us, as the boat moves on ; — the 
Brother Castles, Marksburg, the mountain palace Solzenfels, with 
their lofty, gloomy, and barbaric grandeur, reminding one always of 
times whose loss the mind does not regret. 

" And now a beautiful city comes in view, nestled at the foot of the 



1 66 



ZIGZAG JOURNEYS IN NORTHERN LANDS. 



hills, and protected by a stupendous fortress on the opposite side of 
the river. The fortress is Ehrenbreitstein, the Gibraltar of the Rhine, 
capable of holding an army of men. It is a great arsenal now, well 
garrisoned in peace as in war; in short, it may be called the watch 
on the Rhine. 




EHRENBREITSTEIN. 

" The lovely city under its guns, on the opposite side of the river, 
is Coblentz. It is a gusset of houses, a V-shaped city, at the conflu- 
ence of the Rhine and Moselle. The Romans called it the city 
of the Confluence, or Confluentia ; hence, corrupted, it is known as 
Coblentz. 

" It is the half-way city between Cologne and Mayence, and a favor- 




GOETHE'S PROMENADE. 



NIGHT THE SIXTH. 1 69 

ite resting place of tourists. The summer residence of the King of 
Germany is here. 

" From Coblentz we made a detour into the heart of Germany, 
going by rail to Weimar, once called the Athens of the North. It 
was once the literary centre of Germany. Here lived Goethe, Schil- 
ler, Wieland, and Herder. What the English Lake District, in the 
days of Wordsworth, Southey, Coleridge, Christopher North, and 
De Ouincey was once to England, what Cambridge and Concord 
have been to America in the best days of its authors and poets, 
Weimar was to Germany at the beginning of the present cen- 
tury. We went there to visit the tombs and statues of Goethe, and 
to gain a better knowledge of the works of these poets from the 
associations of their composition. 

"Weimar is a quaint provincial-looking town on the river Ilm. It 
has some sixteen thousand inhabitants, and is the residence of the 
Grand Duke of Saxe-Weimar. The grounds of the palace are won- 
derfully beautiful. They extend along the river, and communicate 
with a summer palace called Belvedere. 

" We visited the tombs of the two great poets. They are found 
beneath a small chapel in the Grand Ducal burial vault. The Grand 
Duke Charles Augustus desired that the bodies of the two poets 
should be interred one on each side of him ; but this was forbidden 
by the usages of the court. 

" In the old Stadtkirche, built in 1400, are the tombs of the ancient 
dukes, now forgotten. Amono- them is that of Duke Bernard, who 
died in 1639. He was the friend of Gustavus Adolphus, and one of 
the most powerful of the leaders of the Reformation. 

" Goethe, the most gifted of the German poets, and the most accom- 
plished man of his age, was born at Frankfort-on-the-Main, in 1749. 
In 1775 he made the intimate acquaintance of Charles Augustus, 
Grand Duke of Saxe-Weimar, who induced him to take up his resi- 
dence at Weimar, the capital. Here he held many public offices, and 
at last became minister of state. He died at the age of eighty-four. 



i^O ZIGZAG JOURNEYS IN NORTHERN LANDS. 

" Goethe's most popular work is a novel called The Sorrows of 
Wertker, but his great and enduring work is Faust, a dramatic poem, 
in which his great genius struggles with the problems of good and evil. 
"His life was full of beautiful friendships. In 1787 Schiller, the 
second in rank of great German poets, was invited to reside at Wei- 
mar. Goethe became most warmly attached to him, and the two 
pursued their high literary callings together. The literary circle now 
consisted of Goethe, Schiller, Wieland, Herder, and the Grand Duke. 
It was the golden a^e of German literature. 

THE STRANGE STORY OF FAUST. 

No myth of the Middle Ages has had so large a growth and so long a life 
as this. 

It has been made the subject of books, pamphlets, and articles almost with- 
out number. The Faust literature in Germany would fill a library. 

In painting, especially of the Holland school, the dark subject as promi- 
nently appears. It is also embodied in sculpture. 

But it is in poetry and music that it found a place that carried it over the 
world. It was made the subject of Marlowe's drama, of Goethe's greatest poem, 
and it is sung in three of the greatest operas of modern times. 

But to the legend. 

About the year 1490 there was born at Roda, in the Duchy of Saxe- Wei- 
mar, a child whose fame was destined to fill the world of superstition, fable, 
and song. He was named John Faustus, or Faust. 

He studied medicine, became an alchemist, and was possessed with a con- 
suming desire to learn the secrets of life and of the spiritual world. 

He studied magic, and his thirst for knowledge of the occult sciences grew. 
He wished to know how to prolong life, to change base metals to gold, to do 
things at once by the power of the will. 

One night, as he was studying, the Evil One appeared before him. 

" I will reveal to you all the secrets you are seeking, and will enable you to 
do anything you wish by the power of the will alone — " 

Dr. Faustus was filled with an almost insane delight. 

" — On one condition." 

" Name it." 



NIGHT THE SIXTH. 



171 



" That I shall have your soul in return." 

" When ? " 

"At the end of twenty-four years — at this time of night — midnight." 

" I shall have pleasure ? " 




FAUST SIGNING. 

Pleasure." 

Gold ? " 

Gold." 

I shall know the secrets of nature ? " 

The secrets of nature." 

I may do what I like at will ? " 

At will." 



172 



ZIGZAG JOURNEYS IN NORTHERN LANDS. 



" I will sign the compact." 
"Sign!" 

Faust signed his name to a compact that was to give the Evil One his soul 

for twenty-four years of pleasure, gold, and 
knowledge, that were to come to an end at 
midnight. 

" I will give you an attendant," said 
the Evil One, " to help you." 

He caused a dark but very elegant 
gentleman to appear, whom he presented 
to Faust as Mephistopheles. 

Dr. Faustus and Me- 
phistopheles now began 




to travel into all lands, per- 
forming wonders to the 
amazement of all people 
wherever they went. 

In a wine-cellar at 
Leipsig, where he and Me- 
phistopheles were drinking, 
some gay fellows said, — 

" Faust, make grapes 
grow on a vine on this 
table." 

" Be silent." 

There was dead si- 
lence. 

A vine began to grow 
from the table, and pres- 
ently it bore a bunch of grapes for each of the revellers. 

" Take your knives and cut a cluster for each." 



FAUST AND MEPHISTOPHELES. 



NIGHT THE SIXTH. I 73 

There was an explosion. Faust and Mephistopheles were seen flying out 
of the window ; the window is still shown in Leipsig. The vine had disap- 
peared, and each of the revellers found himself with his knife over his nose, 
about to cut it off, supposing it to be a cluster of grapes. 

The wonders that it is claimed that Dr. Faustus did in the twenty-four 
years fill volumes. The Faust marvels have gathered to themselves the fables 
of centuries. 

The twenty-four years came to an end at last. Faust became gloomy, and 
retired to Rimlich, at the inn, among his old friends. 

The fatal night came. 

" Should you hear noises in my chamber to-night, do not disturb me," he 
said, on parting from his companions to go to his room. 

Near midnight a tempest arose, — a wild, strange tempest. The winds were 
like demons. It thundered and the air was full of tongues of lightning. 

At midnight there was heard a fearful shriek in Faust's chamber. 

The next morning the room was found bespattered with blood, and the 
body of Faust was missing. The broken remains of the alchemist were discov- 
ered at last in a back yard on a heap of earth. 

This was the village story. It grew as such a dark myth would grow in 
the superstitious times in which it started. Goethe created the character of 
Marguerite and added it to the fable. The transformation of Faust from 
extreme old age to youth was also added. The opera makers have greatly 
enlarged even the narrative of Goethe ; in the latest evolution, Mephistopheles 
is summoned into the courts of heaven and sent forth to tempt Faust, and 
Faust is shown visions of the Greek vale of Tempe and Helen of Troy. 

Faust has come to be a synonym of the great problem of Good and Evil ; 
the contest between virtue and vice, temptation and ruin, temptation and 
moral triumph. It is not a good story in any of its evolutions, but it is one 
that to know is almost essential to intelligence. 

"Returning to Coblentz, we passed our sixth night on the Rhine. 
We there hired a boatman to take us to Bonn. Between Coblentz 
and Andernach we passed what are termed the Rhine Plains. These 
are some ten miles long, and are semicircled by volcanic mountains, 
whose fires have long been dead. 

" We now approached the Seven Mountains, among which is the 
Drachenfels, famous in fable and song. These are called : Lohrberg, 



!74 ZIGZAG JOURNEYS IN NORTHERN LANDS. 

1,355 feet; Neiderstromberg, 1,066 feet; Oelberg, 1,429 feet; Wolken- 
berg, 1,001 feet; Drachenfels, 1,056 feet; Petenberg, 1,030 feet; Lowen- 
berg, 1,414 feet. 

" The Drachenfels is made picturesque by an ancient ruin, and it 
is these ancient ruins, and associations of old history, that make the 
Rhine the most interesting river in the world. Apart from its castles 
and traditions, it is not more beautiful than the Hudson, the Upper 
Ohio, or the Mississippi between St. Paul and Winona. But the 
Rhine displays the ruined arts of two thousand years. 

" The Drachenfels has its wonderful story. It is said that Sieg- 
fried killed the Dragon there. The so-called Dragon Cave or Rock 
is there, and of this particular dragon many curious tales are told. 

" In the early days of Christianity the cross was regarded as some- 
thing more than a mere emblem of faith. It was believed to possess 
miracle-working power. 

" In a rocky cavern of the Drachenfels, in ancient times, there lived 
a Dragon of most hideous form. He had a hundred teeth, and his 
head was so large that he could swallow several victims at a time 
His body was of enormous length, and in form like an alligator's, and 
he had a tail like a serpent. 

" The pagans of the Rhine worshipped this monster and offered to 
him human sacrifices. 

" In one of the old wars between rival princes, a Christian girl was 
taken captive, and the pagan priest commanded that she should be 
made an offering to the Dragon. 

" It was the custom of the pagans to bind their sacrifices to the 
Dragon alive to a tree near his cave at night. At sunrise he would 
come out and devour them. 

" They led the lovely Christian maiden to a spot near the cave, and 
bound her to a tree. 

" It was starlight. Priests and warriors with torches had conducted 
the maiden to the fatal spot, and stood at a little distance from the 
victim, waiting for the sunrise. 




A CLEFT IN THE MOUNTAINS. 



NIGHT THE SIXTH. 



177 



" The priests chanted their wild hymns, and the light at last began 
to break and to crown the mountains and be scattered over the blue 
river. 

" The roar of the monster was heard. The rocks trembled, and he 
appeared. He approached the maiden, bound to an oak. 

" Her eyes were raised in prayer towards heaven. 

" As the Dragon approached the victim, she drew from her bosom 
a crucifix, and held it up before him. 

" As soon as he saw it, he began to tremble. He fell to the earth 
as if smitten. He lost all power and rolled down the rocks, a shapeless 
mass, into the Rhine. 

" The pagans released the girl. 

" ' By what power have you done this ? ' they asked. 

" ' By this,' said the maiden, stretching out the cross in her hand. 
' I am a Christian.' 

" ' Then we will become Christians,' said the pagans, and they led 
the lovely apostle away to be their teacher. Her first convert was one 
of the rival princes, whom she married. Their descendants were 
among the most eminent of the early Christian families of the Seven 
Mountains of the Rhine. 

" Such is the fable as told by the monks of old. The figure of the 
power of the cross over the serpent, employed in early Christian writ- 
ings, undoubtedly was its origin, but how it became associated with 
the story of the captive maiden it would be hard to tell." 

Master Lewis introduced the story-telling of the evening by an- 
ecdote pictures of 

FREDERICK THE GREAT. 

Frederick the Great, King of Prussia, was born in 171 2. He was a wilful 
youth, and his father subjected him to such severe discipline that he revolted 
against it, and, like other boys not of royal blood, formed a plan of running away 



I j8 ZIGZAG JOURNEYS IN NORTHERN LANDS. 

from home. His father discovered the plot, and caused his son's most intimate 
friend, who had assisted him in it, to be put to death, and made the execution 
as terrible as possible. He early came to hate his father, his father's religion, 
and everything that the old king most liked. His father was indeed a hard, 
stern man, of colorless character ; but he managed the affairs of state so pru- 
dently that he left his undutiful son a powerful army and a full treasury, and to 
these as much as to any noble qualities of mind or soul the latter owed the re- 
sources by which he gained the title The Great. 

His mother was a daughter of George I. Frederick loved her, and from her he 
inherited a taste for music and literature, like man)' of the family of the Georges. 
He formed an intimate friendship with Voltaire, the French infidel writer, and 
interested himself in the French infidelity of the period, which was a reaction 
against the corrupt and degenerate French church. 

He entered the field as a soldier in 1741, and was victorious again and again 
in the two Silesian wars. The Seven Years' War, begun in 1756, gained for him 
a position of great influence among the rulers of Europe. He was prudent, like 
his father ; his government was wise, well ordered, and liberal, and he left to his 
successor a full treasury, a great and famous army, enlarged territory, and the 
prestige of a great name. 

The family affairs of kings during the last century were in rather a queer 
state, as the following story of Frederick's marriage will show. 

The prince was told that his father was studying the characters of the young 
ladies of the courts of Europe in order to select a suitable wife for him. He 
admired talent, brilliancy, wit, and he said in substance to the Minister of 
State, — 

" influence my father if you can to obtain for me a gifted and elegant prin- 
cess. Of all things in the world I would hate to have a dull and commonplace 
wife." 

His father made choice of the Princess Elizabeth Christine of Brunswick, a 
girl famous for her awkwardness and stupidity. 

The prince did everything in his power to prevent the marriage. But the 
old king declared that he should marry her, and the wedding ceremony was 
arranged, Frederick in the mean time protesting that he held the bride in utter 
detestation. 

Frederick had a sister whom he dearly loved, Wilhelmina. Two days after 
his marriage, he introduced the bride to her, and said, — 

"This is a sister whom I adore. She has had the goodness to promise that 
she will take care of you and give you good advice. I wish you to do nothing 
without her consent. Do you understand ? " 




VOLTAIRE. 



NIGHT THE SIXTH. 



151 



The young bride, scarcely eighteen, was speechless. She expected " care " 
and " advice " from her husband, and not from his sister. 

Wilhelmina embraced her tenderly. 

Frederick waited for an answer to his question. But she stood dumb. 

" Plague take the blockhead!" he at last exclaimed, and with this compliment 
began the long and sorrowful story of her wedded life. 

She was a good woman and bore her husband's neglect with patience. 
Strangely enough, in his old age Frederick .came to love her; for he discovered, 
after a prejudice of years, that she had a noble soul. 

Frederick died in 1786. In his will he made a most liberal allowance for his 
wife, and bore testimony to her excellent character, saying that she never had 
caused him the least discontent, and her incorruptible virtue was worthy of love 
and consideration. 

She survived the king eleven years. 

Willie Clifton related a true story. 

THE UNNERVED HUSSAR. 

A man once entered the vaults of a church by night, to rob a corpse of a 
valuable ring. In replacing the lid he nailed the tail of his coat to the coffin, 
and when he started up to leave, the coffin clung to him and moved towards 
him. 

Supposing the movement to be the work of invisible hands, his nervous 
system received such a shock that he fell in a fit, and was found where he fell, 
by the sexton, on the following morning. 

Now, had the fellow been honestly engaged, it is not likely that the blunder 
would have happened ; and even had it occurred, he doubtless would have dis- 
covered at once the cause. 

But very worthy people are sometimes affected by superstitious fear, and run 
counter to the dictates of good sense and sound judgment. 

A magnificent banquet was once given by a lord, in a very ancient castle, on 
the confines of Germany. Among the guests was an officer of hussars, distin- 
guished for great self-possession and bravery. 

Many of the guests were to remain in the castle during the night ; and the 
gallant hussar was informed that one of them must occupy a room reputed to be 
haunted, and was asked if he had any objections to accepting the room for 
himself. 



182 



ZIGZAG JOURNEYS IN NORTHERN LANDS. 



He declared that he had none whatever, and thanked his host for the honor 
conferred upon him by the offer. He, however, expressed a wish that no trick 
might be played upon him, saying that such an act might be followed by very 
serious consequences, as he should use his pistols against whatever disturbed 
the peace of the room. 

He retired after midnight, leaving his lamp burning ; and, wearied by the 
festivities, soon fell asleep. He was presently awakened by the sound of music, 
and, looking about the apartment, saw at the opposite end, three phantom ladies, 
grotesquely attired, singing a mournful dirge, 

The music was artistic, rich, and soothing, and the hussar listened for a time, 




hly entertained. The piece was one of unvarying 
ness, and, however seductive at first, after a time 
lost its charm. 
The officer, addressing the musical damsels, remarked that the music had 
become rather monotonous, and asked them to change the tune. The singing 
continued in the same mournful cadences. He became impatient, and ex- 
claimed, — 

" Ladies, this is an impertinent trick, for the purpose of frightening me. I 
shall take rough means to stop it, if it gives me any further trouble." 



NIGHT THE SIXTH. I 83 

He seized his pistols in a manner that indicated his purpose. But the mys- 
terious ladies remained, and the requiem went on. 

" Ladies," said the officer, " 1 will wait five minutes, and then shall fire, un- 
less you leave the room." 

The figures remained, and the music continued. At the expiration of the 
time, the officer counted twenty in a loud, measured voice, and then, taking 
deliberate aim, discharged both of his pistols. 

The ladies were unharmed, and the music was uninterrupted. The unex- 
pected result of his violence threw him into a state of high nervous excitement, 
and, although his courage had withstood the shock of battle, it now yielded to 
his superstitious fears. His strength was prostrated, and a severe illness of some 
weeks' continuance followed. 

Had the hussar held stoutly to his own sensible philosophy, that he had no 
occasion to fear the spirits of the invisible world, nothing serious would have 
ensued. The damsels sung in another apartment, and their figures were made 
to appear in the room occupied by the hussar, by the effect of a mirror. The 
whole was a trick, carefully planned, to test the effect of superstitious fear on 
one of the bravest of men. 

In no case should a person be alarmed at what he suspects to be super- 
natural. A cool investigation will show, in most cases, that the supposed 
phenomenon may be easily explained. It might prove a serious thing for one to 
be frightened by a nightcap on a bedpost, for a fright affects unfavorably the 
nervous system, but a nightcap on a bedpost is in itself a very harmless thing. 

The sixth evening closed with an original poem by Mr. Beal. 



CHAPTER XL 



COLOGNE. 

Bonn. Holy Cologne. — The Story of the Mysterious Architect. — "Unfinished 

and Unknown." — Visit to Cologne Cathedral. — The Tomb of the Magi. — 
The Church of Skulls. — Queer Relics. — The Story and Legend of Char- 
lemagne. — The Story and Legend of Barbarossa. 




E emerged from the majestic circle of the Seven 
Mountains, the most beautiful part of the Rhine 
scenery, and broad plains again met our view. 
The river ran smoothly, the Middle Rhine was 
passed, Bonn was in view, and there we dismissed 
our boatman. 

" We stopped in Bonn only a short time. We went to the Mar- 
ket-place and walked past the University, which was once a palace. 

" We took the train at Bonn for Cologne, in order to pass rapidly 
over a part of the Rhine scenery said to be comparatively uninter- 
esting. 

" Holy Cologne ! 

" The Rome of the Northern Empire ! The ecclesiastical capital 
of the ancient German church ! 

" The unfinished cathedral towers over the city like a mountain. 
' Unfinished ? ' Everything has a legend here, and a marvellous one, 
and the unfinished cathedral stands like a witness to such a tale. 

" Above Cologne the river runs broad, a blue-green mirror amid 
dumpy willows and lanky poplars, and the windmills on its banks 
throw their arms about like giants at play. The steamers swarm in 




CATHEDRAL OF COLOGNE. 



COLOGNE. 187 

the bright waters ; at evening their lights are like will-o'-the-wisps. 
The long bridge of boats opens ; a steamer passes, followed by a crowd 
of boats ; it closes, and the waiting crowd upon it hurry over. The 
Rhine at night here presents a most animated scene. 

" The river seems alive, but the city looks dead. There is a faded 
glory on everything. There are steeples and steeples, towers and 
towers. Cologne is said to have had at one time as many churches as 
there are days in the year. But life has gone out of them ; they are 
like deserted houses. They belonged to the religious period of evolu- 
tion, and are like geologic formations now, — history that has had its 
day, and left its tombstone. 

" Cologne is as old as Rome in her glory, — older than the Chris- 
tian era. She was the second great city of the Church in the Middle 
Ages. 

" Cologne is full of wonders in stone and marble, wonders in 
legend and story as well ; and among these the cathedral holds the 
first place, in both art and fable. 

THE MYSTERIOUS ARCHITECT. 

In the thirteenth century — so the story goes — Archbishop Conrad deter- 
mined to erect a cathedral that should surpass any Christian temple in the 
world. 

Who should be the architect ? 

He must be a man of great genius, and his name would become immortal. 

There was a wonderful builder in Cologne, and the Archbishop went to him 
with his purpose, and asked him to attempt the design. 

" It must not only surpass anything in the past, but anything that may arise 
in the future." 

The architect was awed in view of such a stupendous undertaking. 

" It will carry my name down the ages," he thought ; " I will sacrifice every- 
thing to success." 

He dreamed ; he fasted and prayed. 

He made sketch after sketch and plan after plan, but they all proved un- 



!88 ZIGZAG JOURNEYS IN NORTHERN LANDS. 

worthy of a temple that should be one of the grandest monuments of the piety 
of the time, and one of the glories of future ages. 

In his dreams an exquisite image of a temple rose dimly before him. When 
he awoke, he could vaguely recall it, but could not reproduce it. The ideal 
haunted him and yet eluded him. 

He became disheartened. He wandered in the fields, absorbed in thought. 
The beautiful apparition of the temple would suddenly fill him with delight; 
then it would vanish, as if it were a mockery. 

One day he was wandering along the Rhine, absorbed in thought. 

"Oh," he said, "that the phantom temple would appear to me, and linger 
but for a moment, that I could grasp the design." 

He sat down on the shore, and began to draw a plan with a stick on the 
sand. 

" That is it," he cried with joy. 

" Yes, that is it, indeed," said a mocking voice behind him. 

He looked around, and beheld an old man. 

"That is it," the stranger hissed ; "that is the Cathedral of Strasburg." 

He was shocked. He effaced the design on the sand. 

He began again. 

" There it is," he again exclaimed with delight. 

" Yes," chuckled the old man. "That is the Cathedral of Amiens." 

The architect effaced the picture on the sand, and produced another. 

" Metz," said the old man. 

He made yet another effort. 

" Antwerp ! " 

" O my master," said the despairing architect, " you mock me. Produce a 
design for me yourself." 

" On one condition." 

" Name it." 

" You shall give me yourself, soul and body ! " 

The affrighted architect began to say his prayers, and the old man suddenly 
disappeared. 

The next day he wandered into a forest of the Seven Mountains, still thinking 
of his plan. He chanced to look up the mountain side, when he beheld the queer 
old man again ; he was now leaning on a staff on a rocky wall. 

He lifted his staff and began to draw a picture on a rock behind him. The 
lines were of fire. 

Oh, how beautiful, how grand, how glorious, it all was! 



THE MYSTERIOUS ARCHITECT. 



COLOGNE. 1 9 1 

Fretwork, spandrels, and steeples. It was — it was the very design that 
had haunted the poor architect, that flitted across his mind in dreams but left 
no memory. 

" Will you have my plan ? " asked the old man. 

" I will do all you ask." 

" Meet me at the city gate to-morrow at midnight." 

The architect returned to Cologne, the image of the marvellous temple glow- 
ing in his mind. 

"I shall be immortal," he said; "my name will never die. But," he added, 
" it is the price of my soul. No masses can help me, doomed, doomed for- 
ever ! " 

He told his strange story to his old nurse on his return home. 

She went to consult the priest. 

" Tell him,'' said the priest to the old woman, " to secure the design before 
he signs the contract. As soon as he gets the plan into his hand let him present 
to the old man, who is a demon, the relics of the martyrs and the sign of the 
cross." 

At midnight he appeared at the gate. There stood the little old man. 

" Here is your design," said the latter, handing him a roll of parchment 
" Now you shall sign the bond that gives me yourself in payment." 

The architect grasped the plan. 

"Satan, begone!" he thundered; "in the name of this cross, and of St. 
Ursula, begone ! " 

"Thou hast foiled me," said the old man, his eyes glowing in the darkness 
like fire. " But I will have my revenge. Your church shall never be com- 
pleted, and your name shall never be known in the future to mankind." 



" The Cathedral of Cologne is unfinished, and its architect's name 
is unknown. It may harm the story, but it is but just to say that 
many of the old cathedrals of Europe are in these respects like that 
of Cologne. 

" We were impatient to visit the cathedral on our arrival at Co- 
logne. The structure stood as it were over the city, like its presiding 
genius ; and so it was. Wherever we went the great roofs loomed 
above us in the air. 

" The interior did not disappoint us, even after all we had seen in 



I92 ZIGZAG JOURNEYS IN NORTHERN LANDS. 

other cathedral towns. It was like a forest : the columns were like 
tree stems of a vast open woodland, the groined arches appearing like 
interweaving boughs. The gorgeous windows were like a sunset 
through the trees. The air was dusky in the arches, but near the lofty 
windows vivid with color. 

" It was Sunday. The service had begun. It was like a pageant, 
an opera. The organ was pouring a solemn chant through the far 
arches, like fall winds among the trees. There was a flute-like gush of 
music, far off and mysterious, like birds. It came from the boy-chor- 
isters. Priests in glittering garments were kneeling before the cupola- 
crowned altar; there rose a cloud of incense from silver censers, and 
the organ thundered again, like the storm gathering over the woods. 
At the side of the altar stood the archiepiscopal throne, half in shadow 
amid the tall lights, red and gold ; amid the piles of barbaric splendor, 
canopies, carvings, emblems. 

" We visited the chapels on the following day. In one of them a 
Latin inscription tells the visitor, — 

" ' Here repose the three bodies of the holy magi.' 

" The guide said, — 

" ' This is the tomb of the Three Kings of Cologne.' 

" ' The Wise Men of the East who came to worship at the cradle at 
Bethlehem.' 

" ' Ask him how he got them,' said Willie. 

" ' The Empress Helena, mother of Constantine, recovered them 
and sent them to Milan. When Frederick Barbarossa took the city of 
Milan, he received them among the spoils and sent them to Cologne. 
The names of the Magi were Gaspar, Melchior, Balthazar.' 

" ' Do you believe the legend ? ' asked Willie. 

" ' I do not know ; we shall find things harder than this to believe, 
I fancy, as we go on.' 

" And we did. 

" Leaving the tomb, — a pile of jewels, — we went out, and near the 




ST. MARTIN'S CHURCH, COLOGNE. 



COLOGNE. 



J 95 



outskirts of the city found the famous Church of Skulls, — a gilded 
ossuary, associated with a mediaeval legend. It was full of cabinets 
of bones, said to be those of eleven thousand virgins slain for their 
faith by the Huns. 

" Here we were shown — 

" A part of the rod with which the Saviour was scotirged. 

" A thorn from the crown of thorns, — the Spicula. 

" The pitcher in which Jesus turned water into wine. 

" ' The Mediaeval Church,' said our English-speaking guide, who 
had little faith in the genuineness of the relics, ' has exhibited some 
relics from time to time that would repay a long and arduous pilgrim- 
age if they were what they purported to be ; as, for instance, a feather 
of the angel Gabriel, the snout of a seraph, a ray from the star of 
Bethlehem, two skulls of the same saint, — one taken when the departed 
saint was somewhat younger, as flippantly explained to an astonished 
tourist, who found in two cities the same consecrated cranium. 

" ' But of all the relics of which we ever read, some Germans who 
visited Italy in search of these precious mementos received the most 
remarkable. 

" ' One of these gentlemen, having applied to an ecclesiastic for 
some memento of Scripture history which he could take back to Ger- 
many, was both astonished and delighted by receiving a carefully pre- 
pared package, which he was assured contained a veritable leg of the 
ass on which was made the triumphal entry into Jerusalem, when the 
people strewed palm branches in the way and shouted hosannas. 

" ' He was enjoined to keep the treasure a secret until he reached 
home, which injunction he scrupulously obeyed. 

" ' Arriving in Germany, he disclosed to his four companions the 
wonderful relic. They were much surprised, for each had been secretly 
intrusted with the same remarkable treasure. So it appeared that the 
ass had five legs, which, of itself, would have been something of a 
miracle. 



196 ZIGZAG JOURNEYS IN NORTHERN LANDS. 

" ' Whether these wiseacres ever visited the Latin kingdom in 
search of relics again I am not apprised.' 

" Cologne is full of relics. The people regard them with rever- 
ence; they serve the purpose of scriptural object-teaching to them. 
But they only shock the tourist who has been educated to believe that 
religion is a spiritual life, and that Christ's kingdom is a spiritual king- 
dom, and not of this world." 

Several of the stories related by the boys this evening were his- 
torical. 

THE STORY AND LEGEND OF CHARLEMAGNE. 

Charles the Great, or Charlemagne, King of the Franks and Roman Emperor, 
was born, probably at Aix-la-Chapelle, in 742. His empire at first embraced 
the larger part of what is now France and Germany, but it extended under his 
wars until at last it nearly filled Europe, and he wore the crown of Rome and 
the West. Napoleon, at the height of his power, governed nearly the whole ter- 
ritory that was once ruled by the mighty Charlemagne. 

He was one of the greatest and wisest men in the history of the world. He 
encouraged learning, and opened a school in his palace ; he maintained morality 
and aimed to spread Christianity throughout the world. 

The Saxons were heathens. They honored a great idol called the Irman- 
saul. They were opposed to Charlemagne, and constantly threatened his 
frontiers 

Charlemagne invaded their country, overthrew the great image, and after 
many struggles reduced the people to submission. In accordance with the rude 
customs of the time, he compelled them to accept Christianity and receive bap- 
tism. He is said to have baptized the prisoners of war with his own hand. He 
divided Saxony into eight bishoprics, and supported the bishops with guards of 
soldiers. We should look upon such missionary work as this as very question- 
able to-day, although enlightened nations of this age have sometimes adopted a 
policy in dealing with other countries that is as open to criticism and censure. 

The Pope of Rome became involved in troubles with the Lombards. He 
appealed for help to the victorious King of the Franks, the recognized cham- 
pion of the Church. Charlemagne crossed the Alps, conquered Lombardy, and 
crowned himself with the iron crown of the ancient Lombard kings. 




CHARLEMAGNE IN THE SCHOOL OF THE PALACE. 



COLOGNE. 



J 99 



He then repaired to Rome and entered the city in triumph. As he came to 
St. Peter's he stooped to kiss the steps in memory of the illustrious men that 
had trodden it before him. The Pope there received him in great ceremony, 
and the choir chanted, " Blessed is he that cometh in the name of the Lord." 

He now became the most powerful monarch in the world. He gained great 
victories over the Moors in Spain, and it was in one of the mountain passes 
there that the chivalrous young Roland, of heroic song, perished. His lands 
stretched from the Baltic Sea to the Mediterranean. 

In the year 800 he went to Rome. It was Christmas Day. He entered the 
basilica of St. Peter's to attend Mass. He approached the altar, and bowed to 
pray. The Pope secretly uplifted the crown of the world and placed it upon his 
head. 

The people shouted, "Long live C/iarles Augustus, croivned of God, Emperor 
of the Romans ! " 

From this time Charlemagne was the Kaiser, or Caesar, of the Holy Roman 
Empire on the Tiber and the Rhine. 

The Rhine was loved by Charlemagne. He lived much on its borders, and 
he was buried near it, in a church that he had founded, at Aix-la-Chapelle. 

" I 'd dwell where Charlemagne looked clown, 

And, turning to his peers, 
Exclaimed : ' Behold, for this fair land 

I 've prayed and fought for years.' 
Then all the Rhine towers shook to hear 

The earthquake of their cheers. 

" That day the tide ran crimson red 
(But not with Rhenish wine) ; 
Not with those vintage streams that through 

The green leaves gush and shine : 
'T was blood that from the Lombard ranks 
Rushed down into the Rhine. 

" 'T was here the German soldiers flocked, 

Burning with love and pride, 
And threw their muskets down to kiss 

The soil with French blood dyed. 

' The Rhine, dear Rhine ! ' ten thousand men, 

Kneeling together, cried." 

Thornbury. 

There is a beautiful legend that Charlemagne visits the Rhine yearly and 
blesses the vintage. He comes in a golden robe, and crosses the river on a 



200 ZIGZAG JOURNEYS IN NORTHERN LANDS. 

golden bridge, and the bells of heaven chime above him as he fulfils his peaceful 
mission. The fine superstition is celebrated in music and verse. 

'• By the Rhine, the emerald river, 
How softly glows the night ! 
The vine-clad hills are lying 

In the moonbeams' golden light. 

" And on the hillside walketh 
A kingly shadow down, 
With sword and purple mantle, 
And heavy golden crown. 

" 'T is Charlemagne, the emperor, 
Who, with a powerful hand, 
For many a hundred years 
Hath ruled in German land. 

" From out his grave in Aachen 
He hath arisen there, 
To bless once more his vineyards, 
And breathe their fragrant air. 

" By Rudesheim, on the water, 
The moon cloth brightly shine, 
And buildeth a bridge of gold 
Across the emerald Rhine. 

" The emperor walketh over, 
And all along the tide 
Bestows his benediction 

On the vineyards far and wide. 

"Then turns he back to Aachen 
In his grave-sleep to remain, 
Till the New Year's fragrant clusters 

Shall call him forth again." ' . 

Emanuel Geibel. 

THE STORY AND LEGEND OF BARBAROSSA. 

Frederick of Germany was a very handsome man. There was a tinge of red 
in his beard, and for that reason he came to be called Frederick Barbarossa. 
He was an ambitious man, and he went to Rome to be crowned. 




CHARLEMAGNE INFLICTING BAPTISM UPON THE SAXONS. 



COLOGNE. 



203 



It was a time of rival popes, and Barbarossa entered into the long contro- 
versy, which would make a history of itself. He captured Milan, and levelled 
the city. The sacred relics in the churches were sent to enrich the churches 
of Germany. Among these were the reputed bodies of the three Wise Men of 
the East ; these were sent to Cologne, and are still exhibited there amid heaps 
of jewels. 

Barbarossa was constantly at war with popes and kings : he gained victories 




THE GERMANS ON AN EXPEDITION. 



and suffered reverses ; but his career was theatrical and popular in those rude 
times, and he was regarded as a very good monarch as kings went. 

He once held a great peace festival at Mentz, to which came forty thousand 
knights. A camp of tents of silk and gold was set up by the Rhine, and musi- 
cians, called minnesingers, delighted the nobles and ladies with songs of heroes 
and knights. The songs and ballads then sung became famous, and this festival 
may be said to be the beginning of musical art in music-loving Germany. 

Europe was now startled with the news that the Saracens under Saladin 
had taken Jerusalem. Barbarossa was about inaugurating a new war with the 
Pope ; but when this news came he and the Pope became reconciled, and he 
resolved to go on a crusade. 

He was an old man now, but he entered into the crusade with the fiery spirit 
of youth. His war-cry was, — 



204 ZIGZAG JOURNEYS IN NORTHERN LANDS. 

" Christ reigns ! Christ conquers ! " 

He won a great victory at lconium. 

There was a swift, cold river near the battle-field, called Kaly Kadmus. A 
few days after the victory, Barbarossa went into it to bathe. He was struck by 
a chill and sank into the rapid current, and was drowned. He was seventy 
years of age. His body was found and interred at Antioch. 

Of course the Germans attached to Barbarossa a legend, as they do to every- 
thing. They said that he was not dead, but had fallen a victim to enchantment. 
He and his knights had been put to sleep in the Kyffhauser cave in Thuringia. 
They sat around a stone table, waiting for release. His once red, but now white, 
beard was growing through the stone. 

They also said that the spell that bound Barbarossa and his knights would 
some clay be broken, and that they would come back to Germany. This would 
occur when the country should be in sore distress, and need a champion for its 
cause. 

Ravens flew continually about the cave where the monarch and his knights 
were held enchanted. When they should cease to circle about it, the spell would 
be broken, and the grand old monarch would return to the Rhine. 

They looked for him in days of calamity; but centuries passed, and he did 
not return. 

The legend is thus told in song: — 

" The ancient Barbarossa 

By magic spell is bound, — 
Old Frederick the Kaiser, 
In castle underground. 

" The Kaiser hath not perished, 
He sleeps an iron sleep; 
For, in the castle hidden, 
He 's sunk in slumber deep. 

"With him the chiefest treasures 
Of empire hath he ta'en, 
Wherewith, in fitting season, 
He shall appear again. 

" The Kaiser he is sitting 
Upon an ivory throne ; 
Of marble is the table 
His head he resteth on. 



COLOGNE. 205 

" His beard it is not flaxen ; 
Like living fire it shines, 
And groweth through the table 
Whereon his chin reclines. 

" As in a dream he noddeth, 
Then wakes he, heavy-eyed, 
And calls, with lifted finger, 
A stripling to his side. 

" ' Dwarf, get thee to the gateway, 
And tidings bring, if still 
Their course the ancient ravens 
Are wheeling round the hill. 

" ' For if the ancient ravens 
Are flying still around, 
A hundred years to slumber 
By magic spell I 'm bound.' " 

Friedrich Ruckert. 

The seven evenings with historic places on the Rhine had proved 
a source of profitable entertainment to the Club. It was proposed to 
continue the plan, and to follow Mr. Deal's and the boys' journey to 
the North. 

" Let us add to these entertainments," said Charlie Leland, — 

"(1) A Night in Northern Germany. We will call it a Hamburg 
Night. 

"(2) A Night in Denmark. 

"(3) A Night in Sweden and Norway." 

The proposal was adopted, and Master Beal was asked to continue 
the narrative of travel, and all the members of the Club were requested 
to collect stories that illustrate the history, traditions, manners, and 
customs of these countries. 



CHAPTER XII. 



HAMBURG. 



Hamburg. — Berlin. — Potsdam. — Palace of Sans-Souci. — Story of the Strug- 
gles and Triumphs of Handel. — Story of Peter the Wild Boy. 




AM BURG, the fine old city of the Elbe, is almost as 
large as was Boston before the annexation ; it is 
familiar by name to American ears, for it is from 
Hamburg, as a port, that the yearly army of Ger- 
man emigrants come. 

" I looked sadly upon Hamburg as I thought 
how many eyes rilled with tears had turned back upon her spires and 
towers, her receding harbor, and seen the Germany of their ancestors, 
and the old city of Charlemagne, with its historic associations of a 
thousand years, fade forever from view. Down the Elbe go the 
steamers, and the emigrants with their eyes fixed on the shores! 
Then westward, ho, for the prairie territories of the great empire of 
the New World ! 

" More than six thousand vessels enter the harbor of Hamburg in 
a year. The flags of all nations float there, but the British red is 
everywhere seen. 

" We visited the church of St. Michael, and ascended the steeple, 
which is four hundred and thirty-two feet high, or one hundred feet- 
higher than the spire of St. Paul's in London. We looked down on 
the city, the harbor, the canals. Our eye followed the Elbe on its way 
to the sea. On the north was Holstein ; on the south, Hanover. 



HAMBURG. 



207 




CANAL IN HAMBURG. 



" From Hamburg we made a zigzag to Berlin and Potsdam. The 
railroad between the great German port and the brilliant capital is 



2o8 ZIGZAG JOURNEYS IN NORTHERN LANDS. 

across a level country, the distance being about one hundred and 
seventy-five miles, or seven hours' ride. 

" Berlin, capital of Prussia and of the German Empire, the resi- 
dence of the German Emperor, is situated in the midst of a vast plain ; 
'an oasis of stone and brick in a Sahara of sand.' It is about the size 
of New York, and it greatly resembles an American city, for the 
reason that everything there seems new. 

" It has been called a city of palaces, and so it is, for many of the 
private residences would be fitting abodes for kings. The architec- 
ture is everywhere beautiful ; all the elegances of Greek art meet the 
eye wherever it may turn. Ruins there are none; old quarters, none; 
quaint Gothic or mediaeval buildings, none. The streets are so regu- 
lar, the public squares so artistic, and the buildings such models of 
art, that the whole becomes monotonous. 

'"This is America over again,' said an American traveller, who 
had joined our party. ' Let us return.' 

" Many of the buildings might remind one of the hanging 
gardens of old, so full are the balconies of flowers. The fronts of 
some of the private residences are flow 7 er gardens from the ground 
to the roofs. 

" The emperor's palace is the crowning architectural glory of the 
citv. It is four hundred feet long. 

" We visited the Zoological Gardens and the National Gallery of 
Pictures, the entrance to which makes a beautiful picture. 

" We rode to Potsdam, a distance of some twenty miles. Potsdam 
is the Versailles of Germany. The road to Potsdam is a continuous 
avenue of trees, like the roads near Boston. 

" Of course our object in visiting the town was to see the palace 
and gardens of Sans-Souci, the favorite residence of Frederick the 
Great. 

" Frederick loved everything that was French in art. The French 
expression is seen on everything at Sans-Souci. The approach to the 




m a 



HAMBURG. 2 I I 

palace is by an avenue through gardens laid out in the Louis Quatorze 
style, with alleys, hedges, statues, and fountains. 

" The famous palace stands on the top flight of a series of broad 
terraces, fronted with glass. Beneath these terraces grow vines, olives, 
and orange-trees. In the rear of the palace is a colonnade. There 
Frederick used to pace to and fro in the sunshine, when failing health 




GROTTO. 

and old age admonished him that death was near. As his religious 
hopes were few, his reflections must have been rather lonely when 
death's winter came stealing on. 

" The room where Frederick studied, and the adjoining apartment 
where he died, are shown. The former contains a library consisting 
wholly of books in French. 

" We returned to Hamburg. 

" We were in old Danish territory already. We stopped but one 



212 ZIGZAG JOURNEYS IN NORTHERN LANDS. 

night at Hamburg on our return ; then we made our way to the 
steamer which was to take us to the Denmark of to-day, Copenhagen." 

Among the stories on the Hamburg Night was one by a music- 
lovinsf student of Yule, which he called 



•& 



THE CITY OF HANDEL'S YOUTH. 

The composer of the " Messiah," George Frederick Handel, was born at Halle, 
Germany, Feb. 23, 1685. He sang before he could talk plainly. His father, a 
physician, was alarmed, for he had a poor opinion of music and musicians. As 
the child grew, nature asserted that he would be a musician ; the father declared 
he should be a lawyer. 

Little George was kept from the public school, because the gamut was there 
taught. He might go to no place where music would be heard, and no musical 
instrument was permitted in the house. 

But nature, aided by the wiser mother, triumphed. In those days musical 
nuns played upon a dumb spinet, that they might not disturb the quiet of their 
convents. It was a sort of piano, and the strings were muffled with cloth. One 
of these spinets was smuggled into the garret of Dr. Handel's house. At night, 
George would steal up to the attic and practise upon it. But not a tinkle could 
the watchful father hear. Before the child was seven years of age he had taught 
himself to play upon the dumb instrument. 

One day Dr. Handel started to visit a son in the service of a German duke. 
George begged to go, as he wished to hear the organ in the duke's chapel. But 
not until he ran after the coach did the father consent. 

They arrived at the palace as a chapel service was going on. The boy stole 
away to the organdoft, and, after service, began playing. The duke, recognizing 
that it was not his organist's style, sent a servant to learn who was playing. 
The man returned with the trembling boy. 

Dr. Handel was both amazed and enraged. But the duke, patting the child 
on the head, drew out his story. " You are stifling a genius," he said to the 
angry father ; " this boy must not be snubbed." The doctor, more subservient 
to a prince than to nature, consented that his son should study music. 

During three years the boy studied with Zachau, the organist of the Halle 
Cathedral. They were years of hard work. One day his teacher said to George, 
"I can teach you no longer; you already know more than I do. You. must go 



HAMBURG. 215 

and study in Berlin." Berlin was at once attracted to the youthful musician by 
his playing on the harpsichord and the organ. But the death of his father com- 
pelled him to earn his daily bread. Willing to descend, that he might rise, he 
became a violin player of minor parts at the Hamburg Opera House. The 
homage he had received prompted his vanity to create a surprise. He played 
badly, and acted as a verdant youth. The members of the orchestra sneeringly 
informed him that he would never earn his salt. Handel, however, waited his 
opportunity. One day the harpsichordist, the principal person in the orchestra, 
was absent. The band, thinking it would be a good joke, persuaded Handel to 
take his place. Laying aside his violin, he seated himself at the harpsichord, 
amid the smiles of the musicians. As he touched the keys the smiles gave 
place to looks of wonder. He played on, and the whole orchestra broke into 
loud applause. From that day until he left Hamburg, the youth of nineteen led 
the band. 

Handel's extraordinary skill as a performer was not wholly clue to genius. 
He practised incessantly, so that every key of his harpsichord was hollowed like 
a spoon. 

Handel's greatest triumphs, as a composer, were won in England. But the 
music-loving Irish of Dublin had the honor of first welcoming his masterpiece, 
the " Messiah." Such was the enthusiasm it created that ladies left their hoops at 
home, in order to get one hundred more listeners into the room. 

A German poet calls the " Messiah " " a Christian epic in musical sounds." 
The expression is a felicitous description of its theme and style. It celebrates 
the grandest of events with the sublimest strains that music may utter. The 
great composer commanded, and all the powers of music hastened with song and 
instrument to praise the life, death, and triumph of the Christ. No human com- 
position ever voiced, in poetry or prose or music, such a masterly conception of 
the Virgin's Son as that uttered by this magnificent oratorio. 

The sacred Scriptures furnish the words. The seer's prophecies, the Psalm- 
ist's strains, the evangelist's narrative, the angels' song, the anthem of the re- 
deemed, are transferred to aria, recitative, and chorus. The sentiment is as 
majestic as the music is grand. He who sought out the fitting words had stud- 
ied his Bible, and he who joined to them musical sounds dwelt in the region of 
the sublime. 

All the emotions are touched by the oratorio. Words and music quiver 
with fear, utter sorrow, plead with pathos, or exult in the joy of triumph. A 
symphony so paints a pastoral scene that the shepherds of Bethlehem are seen 
watching their flocks. One air, " He was despised," suggests that its birth was 



2l6 ZIGZAG JOURNEYS IN NORTHERN LANDS. 

amid tears. It was ; for Handel sobbed aloud while composing it. It is the 
threnody of the oratorio. 

The grandeur of the " Messiah " finds its highest expression in the " Hallelujah 
Chorus." " I did think," said Handel, describing, in imperfect English, his 
thought at the moment of composition, — "I did think I did see all heaven 
before me, and the great God himself." 

When the oratorio was first performed in London, the audience were trans- 
ported at the words, "The Lord God omnipotent reigneth." They all, with 
George II., who happened to be present, started to their feet and remained 
standing until the chorus was ended. This act of homage has become the 
custom with all English-speaking audiences. 

" You have given the audience an excellent entertainment," said a patroniz- 
ing nobleman to Handel, at the close of the first performance of the " Messiah " 
in London. 

" My lord," replied the grand old composer, with dignity, " I should be very 
sorry if I only entertained them ; I wish to make them better." 

A few years before his death Handel was smitten with blindness. He con- 
tinued, however, to preside at his oratorios, being led by a lad to the organ, 
which, as leader, he played. One day, while conducting his oratorio of " Samson," 
the old man turned pale and trembled with emotion, as the bass sung the blind 
giant's lament: "Total eclipse! no sun, no moon !" As the audience saw the 
sightless eyes turned towards them, they were affected to tears. 

Seized by a mortal illness, Handel expressed a wish that he might die on 
Good Friday, " in hope of meeting his good God, his sweet Lord and Saviour, 
on the day of his resurrection." This consolation, it seems, was not denied him. 
For on his monument, standing in the Poets' Corner of Westminster Abbey, is 
inscribed : "Died on Good Friday, April 14, 1759." 

Another story, which is associated with the woods of Hanover, 
near Hamburg, was entitled 

PETER THE WILD BOY. 

In the year 1725, a few years after the capture of Marie le Blanc, a cele- 
brated wild girl in France, there was seen in the woods, some twenty-five miles 
from Hanover, an object in form like a boy, yet running on his hands and feet, 
and eating grass and moss, like a beast. 

The remarkable creature was captured, and was taken to Hanover by the 



HAMBURG. 



217 



superintendent of the House of Correction at Zell. It proved to be a boy evi- 
dently about thirteen years of age, yet possessing the habits and appetites of a 
mere animal. He was presented to King George I., at a state dinner at Hano- 
ver, and, the curiosity of the king being greatly excited, he became his patron. 

In about a year after his capture he was taken to England, and exhibited to 
the court. While in that country he received the name of Peter the Wild Boy, 
by which ever after he was known. 

Marie le Blanc, after proper training, became a lively, brilliant girl, and 




PETER THE WILD BOY. 

related to her friends and patrons the history of her early life ; but Peter the 
Wild Boy seems to have been mentally deficient. 

Dr. Arbuthnot, at whose house he resided for a time in his youth, spared no 
pains to teach him to talk ; but his efforts met with but little success. 

Peter seemed to comprehend the language and. signs of beasts and birds far 
better than those of human beings, and to have more sympathy with the brute 



2l8 ZIGZAG JOURNEYS IN NORTHERN LANDS. 

creation than with mankind. He, however, at last was taught to articulate the 
name of his royal patron, his own name, and some other words. 

It was a long time before he became accustomed to the habits of civilization. 
He had evidently been used to sleeping on the boughs of trees, as a security 
from wild beasts, and when put to bed would tear the clothes, and hopping up 
take his naps in the corner of the room. 

He regarded clothing with aversion, and when fully dressed was as uneasy 
as a culprit in prison. He was, however, generally docile, and submitted to 
discipline, and by degrees became more fit for human society. 

He was attracted by beauty, and fond of finery, and it is related of him that 
he attempted to kiss the young and dashing Lady Walpole, in the circle at court. 
The manner in which the lovely woman received his attentions may be fancied. 

Finding that he was incapable of education, his royal patron placed him in 
charge of a farmer, where he lived many years. Here he was visited by Lord 
Monboddo, a speculative English writer, who, in a metaphysical work, gives the 
following interesting account : — 

"It was in the beginning of June, 1782, that I saw him in a farmhouse 
called Broadway, about a mile from Berkhamstead, kept there on a pension of 
thirty pounds, which the king pays. He is but of low stature, not exceeding 
five feet three inches, and though he must now be about seventy years of age, 
he has a fresh, healthy look. He wears his beard ; his face is not at all ugly or 
disagreeable, and he has a look that may be called sensible or sagacious for a 
savage. 

" About twenty years ago he used to elope, and once, as I was told, he wan- 
dered as far as Norfolk ; but of late he has become quite tame, and either keeps 
the house or saunters about the farm. He has been, during the last thirteen 
years, where he lives at present, and before that he was twelve years with 
another farmer, whom I saw and conversed with. 

" This farmer told me he had been put to school somewhere in Hertford- 
shire, but had only learned to articulate his own name, Peter, and the name of 
King George, both which I heard him pronounce very distinctly. But the 
woman of the house where he now is — for the man happened not to be home 
— told me he understood everything that was said to him concerning the com- 
mon affairs of life, and I saw that he readily understood several things she said 
to him while I was present. Among other things she desired him to sing 
'Nancy Dawson,' which he accordingly did, and another tune that she named. 
He was never mischievous, but had that gentleness of manners which I hold to 
be characteristic of our nature, at least till we become carnivorous, and hunters, 



HAMBURG. 



2ig 



or warriors. He feeds at present as the farmer and his wife do ; but, as I was 
told by an old woman who remembered to have seen him when he first came to 
Hertfordshire, which she computed to be about fifty-five years before, he then 
fed much on leaves, particularly of cabbage, which she saw him eat raw. He 
was then, as she thought, about fifteen years of age, walked upright, but could 
climb trees like a squirrel. At present he not only eats flesh, but has acquired 
a taste for beer, and even for spirits, of which he inclines to drink more than he 
can get. 

"The old farmer with whom he lived before he came to his present situa- 
tion informed me that Peter had that taste before he came to him. He has also 
become very fond of fire, but has not acquired a liking for money ; for though 
he takes it he does not keep it, but gives it to his landlord or landlady, which I 
suppose is a lesson they have taught him. He retains so much of his natural 
instinct that he has a fore-feeling of bad weather, growling, and howling, and 
showing great disorder before it comes on." 

Another philosopher, who made him a visit, obtained the following luminous 
information : — 

" Who is your father ? " 

" King George." 

" What is your name ? " 

" Pe-ter." 

"What is that?" (pointing to a dog.) 

" Bow-wow." 

" What are you ? " 

"Wild man." 

" Where were you found ? " 

" Hanover." 

" W 7 ho found you ? " 

" King George." 

About the year 1746 he ran away, and, entering Scotland, was arrested as 
an English spy. His captors endeavored to force from him some terrible dis- 
closure, but could obtain nothing, not even an answer, and it was something of 
a puzzle to them to determine exactly what they had captured. 

They at last resolved to inflict punishment upon him for his obstinacy, but 
were deterred by a lady who recognized him and disclosed his history. 

In his latter years he made himself useful to the farmer with whom he lived, 
but he required constant watchfulness, else he would make grave blunders. An 
amusing anecdote is told of his manner of working when left to himself. 



2 20 ZIGZAG JOURNEYS IN NORTHERN LANDS. 

He was required, during the absence of his guardian, to fill a cart with com- 
post, which he did ; but, having filled the cart in the usual way, and finding him- 
self out of employment, he directly shovelled the compost out again, and when 
the farmer returned the cart was empty. 

But poor Peter, with all his dulness, possessed some remarkable character- 
istics. He was very strong of arm, and wonderfully swift of foot, and his senses 
were acute. His musical gifts were most marvellous. He would reproduce, in 
his humming way, the notes of a tune that he had heard but once, — a thing 
that might have baffled an amateur. 

He also had a lively sense of the beautiful and the sublime. He would 
stand at night gazing on the stars as though transfixed by the splendors blazing 
above. His whole being was thrilled with joy on the approach of spring. He 
would sing all the day as the atmosphere became warm and balmy, and would 
often prolong his melodies far into the beautiful nights. 

He died aged about seventy years. 



CHAPTER XIII. 

THE BELLS OF THE RHINE. 

Legends of the Bells of Basel and Speyer. — Story of the Harmony Chime. 

The Bell-Founder of Breslau. 




NE evening, after the story-telling entertainments, 
Mr. Beal was speaking to the Class of the great 
bell of Cologne which has been cast from the 
French cannon captured in the last war. 

" It seems a beautiful thing," he said, " that the 
guns of war should be made to ring out the notes 
of peace." 

" There is one subject that we did not treat at our meetings," said 
Charlie Leland, — " the bells of the Rhine." 

" True," said Mr. Beal. " A volume might be written on the sub- 
ject. Almost every belfry on the Rhine has its legend, and many of 
them are associated with thrilling events of history. The raftmen, as 
they drift down the river on the Sabbath, associate almost every bell 
they hear with a story. The bells of Basle (Basel), Strasburg, Speyer, 
Heidelberg, Worms, Frankfort, Mayence, Bingen, and Bonn all ring 
out a meaning to the German student that the ordinary traveller does 
not comprehend. Bell land is one of mystery. 

" For example, the clocks of Basel. The American traveller 
arrives at Basel, and hurries out of his hotel, and along the beautiful 
public gardens, to the terrace overlooking the Rhine. He looks down 
on the picturesque banks of the winding river ; then far away his eye 
seeks the peaks of the Jura. 



222 ZIGZAG JOURNEYS IN NORTHERN LANDS. 

" The bells strike. The music to his ears has no history. 

" The German and French students hear them with different ears. 
The old struggles of Alsace and Romaine come back to memory. 
They recall the fact that the city was once saved by a heroic watch- 
man, who confused the enemy by causing the bells to strike the wrong 
hour. To continue the memory of this event, the great bell of Basel 
during the Middle Ages was made to strike the hour of one at noon- 
day. 

" The bells of Speyer have an interesting legend. Henry IV. was 
one of the most unfortunate men who ever sat upon a throne. His 
own son, afterward Henry V., conspired against him, and the Pope 
declared him an outlaw. 

" Deserted by every one, he went into exile, and made his home at 
Ingleheim, on the Rhine. One old servant, Kurt, followed his changing 
fortunes. He died at Liege. 

" Misfortune followed the once mighty emperor even after death. 
The Pope would not allow his body to be buried for several years. 
Kurt watched by the coffin, like Rizpah by the bodies of her sons. 
He made it his shrine : he prayed by it daily. 

" At last the Pope consented that the remains of the emperor should 
rest in the earth. The body was brought to Speyer. Kurt followed 
it. It was buried with great pomp, and tollings of bells. 

" Some months after the ceremonious event Kurt died. As his 
breath was passing, say the legendary writers, all the bells began to 
toll. The bellmen ran to the belfries ; no one was there, but the bells 
tolled on, swayed, it was believed, by unseen hands. 

" Henry V. died in the same town. He was despised by the 
people, and he suffered terrible agonies in his last hours. As his last 
moments came the bells began to toll again. It was not the usual 
announcement of the death of the good, but the sharp notes that pro- 
claim that a criminal is being led to justice; at least, so the people 
came to believe. 







C' : -.,■■■''■■ ■'"■£■■ 
., 



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llil 
















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■K ' lir"! 

B, if 'WM 

m 





THE SILENT CASTLES. 



THE BELLS OF THE RHLNE. 



225 



" One of the most beautiful stones of bells that I ever met is asso- 
ciated with a once famous factory that cast some of the most melo- 
dious bells in Holland and the towns of the Rhine. I will tell it to 
you. 

THE HARMONY CHIME. 

Many years ago, in a large iron foundry in the city of Ghent, was found a 
young workman by the name of Otto Holstein. He was not nineteen years of 
age, but none of the workmen could equal him in his special department, — bell 




HOTEL DE VILLE, GHENT. 



casting or moulding. Far and near the fame of Otto's bells extended, — the 
clearest and sweetest, people said, that were ever heard. 

15 



2 26 ZIGZAG JOURNEYS IN NORTHERN LANDS. 

Of course the great establishment of Von Erlangen, in which Otto worked, 
got the credit of his labors ; but Von Erlangen and Otto himself knew very 
well to whom the superior tone of the bells was due. The master did not pay 
him higher wages than the others, but by degrees he grew to be general super- 
intendent in his department in spite of his extreme youth. 

" Yes, my bells are good," he said to a friend one day, who was commenting 
upon their merits ; " but they do not make the music I will yet strike from 
them. They ring alike for all things. To be sure, when they toll for a funeral 
the slow measure makes them seem mournful, but then the notes are really the 
same as in a wedding peal. I shall make a chime of bells that will sound at 
will every chord in the human soul." 

"Then wilt thou deal in magic," said his friend, laughing; "and the Holy 
Inquisition will have somewhat to do with thee. No human power can turn a 
bell into a musical instrument." 

" But I can," he answered briefly ; " and, Inquisition or not, I will do it." 

He turned abruptly from his friend and sauntered, lost in thought, down the 
narrow street which led to his home. It was an humble, red-tiled cottage, of 
only two rooms, that he had inherited from his grandfather. There he lived 
alone with his widowed mother. She was a mild, pleasant-faced woman, and 
her eyes brightened as her son bent his tall head under the low doorway, as he 
entered the little room. "Thou art late, Otto," she said, "and in trouble, too," 
as she caught sight of his grave, sad face. 

"Yes," he answered. "When I asked Herr Erlangen for an increase of 
salary, for my work grows harder every day, he refused it. Nay, he told me if 
I was not satisfied, I could leave, for there were fifty men ready to take my 
place. Ready! yes, I warrant they're ready enough, but to be able is a different 
thing." 

His mother sighed deeply. 

"Thou wilt not leave Herr Erlangen's, surely. It is little we get, but it: 
keeps us in food." 

" I must leave," he answered. " Nay, do not cry out, mother ! I have 
other plans, and thou wilt not starve. Monsieur Dayrolles, the rich Frenchman, 
who lives in the Linden-Strasse, has often asked me why I do not set up a 
foundry of my own. Of course I laughed, — I, who never have a thaler to 
spend ; but he told me he and several other rich friends of his would advance 
the means to start me in business. He is a great deal of his time at Er- 
langen's, and is an enthusiast about fine bells. Ah ! we are great friends, and 
I am going to him after supper." 

" People say he is crazy," said his mother. 



THE BELLS OF THE RHINE. 227 

" Crazy ! " indignantly. " People say that of everybody who has ideas they 
can't understand. They say I am crazy when I talk of my chime of bells. If 
I stay with Erlangen, he gets the credit of my work; but my chime must be 
mine,- — mine alone, mother." His eyes lighted with a kind of wild enthusiasm 
whenever he talked on this subject. 

His mother's cheerful face grew sad, as she laid her hand on his shoulder. 

" Why, Otto, thou art not thyself when thou speakest of those bells." 

" More my real self, mother, than at any other time ! " he cried. " I only 
truly live when I think of how my idea is to be carried out. It is to be my 
life's work ; I know it, I feel it. It is upon me that my fate is woven inextri- 
cably in that ideal chime. It is God-sent. No great work, but the maker is 
possessed wholly by it. Don't shake your head, mother. Wait till my ' Har- 
mony Chime ' sounds from the great cathedral belfry, and then shake it if 
you can." 

His mother smiled faintly. 

"Thou art a boy, — a mere child, Otto, though a wonderful genius, I must 
confess. Thy hopes delude thee, for it would take a lifetime to carry out 
thine idea." 

" Then let it take a lifetime ! " he cried out vehemently. " Let me accom- 
plish it when I am too old to hear it distinctly, and I will be content that its 
first sounds toll my dirge. I must go now to Monsieur Dayrolles. Wish me 
good luck, dearest mother." And he stooped and kissed her tenderly. 

Otto did not fail. The strange old man in his visits to the foundry had 
noticed the germs of genius in the boy, and grown very fond of him. He was 
so frank, so honest, so devoted to his work, and had accomplished so much at 
his early age, that Monsieur Dayrolles saw a brilliant future before him. Be- 
sides,. the old gentleman, with a Frenchman's vanity, felt that if the " Harmony 
Chime" could be made, the name of the munificent patron would go down to 
posterity with that of the maker. He believed firmly that the hoy would some 
day accomplish his purpose. So, although the revolt of the Netherlands had 
begun and he was preparing to return to his own country, he advanced the 
necessary funds, and saw Otto established in business before he quitted Ghent. 

In a very short time work poured in upon Otto. During that long and 
terrible' war the manufacture of cannon alone made the fortunes of the workers 
in iron. So five years from the time he left Von Erlangen we find Otto Hol- 
stein a rich man at twenty-four years of age. But the idea for which he 
labored had never for a moment left his mind. Sleeping or waking, toiling or 
resting, his thoughts were busy perfecting the details of the great work. 



228 



ZIGZAG JOURNEYS IN NORTHERN LANDS. 



"Thou art twenty-four to-day, Otto," said his good mother, "and rich 
beyond our hopes. When wilt thou bring Gertrude home to me? Thou hast 
been betrothed now for three years, and I want a daughter to comfort my de- 
clining years. Thou doest thy be- 
trothed maiden a grievous wrong 
to delay without cause. The gos- 
sips are talking already." 

" Let them talk," laughed Otto. 
" Little do Gertrude or I care for 
their silly tongues. She and I 
have agreed that the ' Harmony 
Chime' is to usher in pur mar- 
riage-day. Why, good mother, no 
man can serve two mistresses, and 
my chime has the oldest claim. 
Let me accomplish it, and then the 
remainder of my life belongs to 
Gertrude, and thou, too, best of 
mothers." 

" Still that dream ! still that 
dream!" sighed his mother. "Thou 
hast cast bell after bell, and until 
to-day I have heard nothing more 
of the wild idea." 

" No, because I needed money. 

I needed time, and thought, too, to 

make experiments. All is matured 

now. I have received an order to 

make a new set of bells for the great cathedral that was sacked last week by 

the ' Iconoclasts,' and I begin to-morrow." 

As Otto had said, his life's work began the next day. He loved his 
mother, but he seemed now to forget her in the feverish eagerness with which 
he threw himself into his labors. He had been a devoted lover to Gertrude, 
but he now never had a spare moment to give to her, — in fact, he only seemed 
to remember her existence in connection with the peal which would ring in 
their wedding-day. His labors were prolonged far over the appointed time, and 
meanwhile the internal war raged more furiously, and the Netherlands were 
one vast battle-field. No interest did Otto seem to take in the stirring events 
around him. The bells held his whole existence captive. 




BELL-TOWER, GHENT. 



k £®-& 



u'fr •>-: 







Bf_ 



■ '^v, ,'c < Mi 






BELL TOWER OF HEIDELBERG. 



THE BELLS OF THE RHINE. 23 1 

At last the moulds were broken, and the bells came out of their husks per- 
fect in form, and shining as stars in Otto's happy eyes. They were mounted 
in the great belfry, and for the test-chime Otto had employed the best bell- 
ringers in the city. 

It was a lovely May morning ; and, almost crazed with excitement and 
anxiety, Otto, accompanied by a few chosen friends, waited outside the city for 
the first notes of the Harmony Chime. At some distance he thought he could 
better judge of the merits of his work. 

At last the first notes were struck, clear, sonorous, and so melodious that his 
friends cried aloud with delight. But with finger upraised for silence, and eyes 
full of ecstatic delight, Otto stood like a statue until the last note died away. 
Then his friends caught him as he fell forward in a swoon, — a swoon so like 
death that no one thought he would recover. 

But it was not death, and he came out of it with a look of serene peace on 
his face that it had not worn since boyhood. He was married to Gertrude that 
very day, but every one noticed that the ecstasy which transfigured his face 
seemed to be drawn more from the sound of the bells than the sweet face 
beside him. 

" Don't you see a spell is cast on him as soon as they begin to ring ? " said 
one, after the bells had ceased to be a wonder. " If he is walking, he stops 
short, and if he is working, the work drops and a strange fire comes in his 
eyes ; and I have seen him shudder all over as if he had an ague." 

In good truth, the bells seemed to have drawn a portion of Otto's life to 
them. When the incursions of the war forced him to fly from Ghent with his 
family, his regrets were not for his injured property, but that he could not hear 
the bells. 

He was absent two years, and when he returned it was to find the cathedral 
almost a ruin, and the bells gone no one knew where. From that moment a 
settled melancholy took possession of Otto. He made no attempt to retrieve 
his losses ; in fact, he gave up work altogether, and would sit all day with his 
eyes fixed on the ruined belfry. 

People said he was melancholy mad, and I suppose it was the truth ; but he 
was mad with a kind of gentle patience very sad to see. His mother had died 
during their exile, and now his wife, unable with all her love to rouse him from 
his torpor, faded slowly away. He did not notice her sickness, and his poor 
numbed brain seemed imperfectly to comprehend her death. But he followed 
her to the grave, and turning from it moved slowly down the city, passed the 
door of his old home without looking at it, and went out of the city gates. 



232 ZIGZA G JO URNE YS IN. NOR THERN LA NDS. 

After that he was seen in every city in Europe at different intervals. 
Charitable people gave him alms, but he never begged. He would enter a 
town, take his station near a church and wait until the bells rang for matins or 
vespers, then take up his staff and, sighing deeply, move off. People noting the 
wistful look in his eyes would ask him what he wanted. 

"I am seeking, — I am seeking," was his only reply; and those were almost 
the only words any one ever heard from him, and he muttered them often to 
himself. Years rolled over the head of the wanderer, but still his slow march 
from town to town continued. His hair had grown white, and his strength 
had, failed him so much that he only tottered instead of walked, but still that 
wistful; seeking look was in his eyes. 

He : heard, the old bells on the Rhine in his wanderings. He lingered long 
near the belfries of the sweetest voices ; but their melodious tongues only 
spoke to him of his lost hope. 

He left the river of sweet bells, and made a pilgrimage to England. It was 
the days of cathedrals in their beauty and glory, and here he again heard the 
tones that he loved, but which failed to realize his own ideal. 

When a person fails to fulfil his ideal, his whole life seems a failure, — like 
something glorious and beautiful one meets and loses, and never again finds. 

"Be true to the dreams of thy youth,"' says a German author; and every 
soul is unhappy until the dreams of youth prove true. 

One glorious evening in midsummer Otto was crossing a river in Ireland. 
The kind-hearted boatman had been moved by the old man's imploring gestures 
to cross him. "He's mighty nigh his end, anyhow," he muttered, looking at 
the feeble movements of the old pilgrim as he stumbled to his seat. 

Suddenly through the still evening air came the distant sound of a melo- 
dious chime. At the first note the pilgrim leaped to his feet and threw up his 
arms. 

" O my God," he cried, "found at last! " 

"It's the bells of the Convent," said the wondering man, not understanding 
Otto's words spoken in a foreign tongue, but answering his gesture. " They 
was brought from somewhere in Holland when they were fighting there. 
Moighty fine bells they are, anyhow. But he is n't listening to me." 

No, he heard nothing but the bells. He merely whispered, " Come back 
to me after so many years, — O love of my soul, O thought of my life! Peal 
on, for your voices tell me of Paradise." 

The last note floated through the air, and as it died away something else 
soared aloft forever, free from the clouds and struggles of life. 




BRESLAU. 



THE BELLS OF THE RHINE. 235 

His ideal was fulfilled now. Otto lay dead, his face full of peace and joy, 
for the weary quest of his crazy brain was over, and the Harmony Chime had 
called him to his eternal rest. 

And, past that change of life that men call Death, we may well believe that 
he heard in the ascension to the celestial atmosphere the ringing of welcoming 
bells more beautiful than the Harmony Chime. 

" I will relate another story," said Mr. Beal. " It is like the Har- 
mony Chime, but has a sadder ending." 

THE BELL-FOUNDER OF BRESLAU. 

There once lived in Breslau a famous bell-founder, the fame of whose skill 
caused his bells to be placed in many German towers. According to the ballad 
of Wilhelm Muller,— 

" And all his bells they sounded 

So full and clear and pure : 
He poured his faith and love in, 

Of that all men were sure. 
But of all bells that ever 

He cast, was one the crown, 
That was the bell for sinners 

At Breslau in the town." 

He had an ambition to cast one bell that would surpass all others in purity 
of tone, and that should render his own name immortal. 

He was required to cast a bell for the Magdalen Church tower of that city 
of noble churches, — Breslau. He felt that this was opportunity for his master- 
piece. All of his thoughts centred on the Magdalen bell. 

After a long period of preparation, his metals were arranged for use. The 
form was walled up and made steady ; the melting of the metals in the great 
bell-kettle had begun. 

The old bell-founder had two faults which had grown upon him ; a love of 
ale and a fiery temper. 

While the metals were heating in the kettle, he said to his fire-watch, a 
little boy, — 

" Tend the kettle for a moment ; I am overwrought : I must go over to the 
inn, and take my ale, and nerve me for the casting. 

" But, boy," he added, " touch not the stopple ; if you do, you shall rue it. 



236 



ZIGZAG JOURNEYS IN NORTHERN LANDS. 




"jUP 




FINISHING THE BELL. 



That bell is my life, I have put all I have learned in life into it. If any man 
were to touch that stopple, I would strike him dead." 



THE BELLS OF THE RHINE. 



2 37 




AT THE INN. 



The boy had an over-sensitive, nervous temperament. He was easily ex- 
cited, and was subject to impulses that he could not easily control. 



2 3 8 



ZIGZAG JOURNEYS IN NORTHERN LANDS. 



The command that he should not touch the stopple, under the dreadful 
penalty, strongly affected his mind, and made him wish to do the very thing 
he had been forbidden. 

He watched the metal in the great kettle. It bubbled, billowed, and ran to 

and fro. In the composition of the 



glowing mass he knew that his mas- 
ter had put his heart and soul. 

It would be a bold thing to touch 
the stopple, — adventurous. His 
hand began to move towards it. 

The evil impulse grew, and his 
hand moved on. 

He touched the stopple. The 
impulse was a wild passion now, — 
he turned it. 

Then his mind grew dark — he 
was filled with horror. He ran to 
his master. 

" I have turned the stopple ; I 
could not help it," he said. "The 
Devil tempted me ! " 

The old bell-founder clasped his 
hands and looked upward in agony. 
Then his temper flashed over him. 
He seized his knife, and stabbed the 
boy to the heart. 

He rushed back to the foundry, 
hoping to stay the stream. He found 
the metal whole ; the turning of the 
stopple had not caused the metal to 
flow. 

The boy lay dead on the ground. 

The old bell-founder knew the 
consequences of his act, and he did 
not seek to escape them. He cast 




THE DAY OF EXECUTION. 



the bell ; then he went to the magistrates, and said, — 

" My work is done ; but lama murderer. Do with me as you will." 

The trial was short ; it greatly excited the city. The judges could not do 

otherwise than sentence him to death. But as he was penitent, he was prom- 



THE BELLS OF THE RHINE. 



2 39 



ised that on the day of his execution he should receive the offices and conso- 
lations of the Church. 

" You are good," he said. " But grant me another favor. My bells will 
delight many ears when I am gone ; my soul is in them ; grant me another 
favor." 

" Name it," said the judges. 

" That I may hear the sound of my new bell before I die." 

The judges consulted, and answered, — 

" It shall toll for your execution." 

The fatal day came. 

Toll, toll, toll ! 

There was a sadness in the tone of the bell that touched every heart in 
Breslau. The bell seemed human. 

Toll, toll, toll ! 

How melodious ! how perfect ! how beautiful ! The very air seemed 
charmed ! The years would come and go, and this bell would be the tongue 
of Breslau ! 

The old man came forth. He had forgotten his fate in listening to the bell. 
The heavy clang was so melodious that it filled his heart with joy. 

" That is it ! that is it ; my heart, my life ! " he said. " I know all the 
metals ; I made the voice ! Ring on, ring on forever ! Ring in holy days, and 
happy festivals, and joy eternal to Breslau." 

Toll, toll, toll ! 

On passed the white-haired man, listening still to the call of the bell that 
summoned him to death. 

He bowed his head at the place of execution to meet the stroke just as the 
last tone of the bell melted upon the air. His soul passed amid the silvery 
echoes. The bell rings on. 

"Ay, of all bells that ever 

He cast, is this the crown, 
The bell of Church St. Magdalen 

At Breslau in the town. 
It was, from that time forward, 

Baptized the Sinner's Bell ; 
Whether it still is called so, 

Is more than I can tell." 

" There is a sadness in the bells of the Rhine," continued Mr. 
Beal, " as they ring from old belfries at evening under the ruins of 



240 ZIGZAG JOURNEYS IN NORTHERN LANDS. 

the castles on the hills. The lords of the Rhine that once heard 
them are gone forever. The vineyards creep up the hills on the light 
trellises, and the sun and the earth, as it were, fill the grapes with 
wine. The woods arc as green as of old. The rafts go drifting down 
the light waves as on feet of air. But the river of history is changed, 
and one feels the spirit of the change with deep sadness as one listens 
to the bells." 

THE LIGHTS HAVE GONE OUT IN THE CASTLE. 



The boatmen strike lightly the zither 

As they drift 'neath the hillsides of green, 
But gone from the Rhine is the palgrave, 
And gone is the palgravine. 

Play lightly, play lightly, O boatman, 

When the shadows of night round thee fall, 
For the lights have gone out in the castle, 

The lights have gone out in the hall. 
And the Rhine waters silently flow, 
The old bells ring solemn and slow, 
O boatman, 

Play lightly, 

Play lightly. 
O boatman, play lightly and low. 



Awake the old runes on the zither, 

O boatman ! the lips of the Rhine 
Still kiss the green ruins of ivy, 
And smile on the vineyards of wine. 
Play lightly, play lightly, O boatman, 

When the shadows of night round thee fall, 
For the lights have gone out in the castle, 

The lights have gone out in the hall. 
And the Rhine waters silently flow, 
The old bells ring solemn and slow, 
O boatman, 

Play lightly, 

Play lightly, 
O boatman, play lightly and low. 




ABOVE THE TOWN. 



THE BELLS OF THE RHINE. 243 

in. 

The lamps of the stars shine above thee 

As they shone when the vineyards were green, 
In the long vanished days of the palgrave, 
In the days of the palgravine. 

Play lightly, thy life tides are flowing, 

Thy fate in the palgrave's recall, 
For the lights have gone out in the castle, 

The lights have gone out in the hall. 
And the Rhine waters silently flow, 
And the old bells ring solemn and slow, 
O boatman, 

Play lightly, 

Play lightly, 
O boatman, play lightly and low. 

The narratives of the evening devoted to the Bells on the Rhine 
were closed by a story by Master Lewis. 

" I do not often relate stories," he said ; " but I have a German 
story in mind, the lesson of which has been helpful to my experience. 
It is a legend and a superstition, and one that is not as generally 
familiar to the readers of popular books as are many that have been 
told at these meetings. I think you will like it, and that you will 
not soon forget it." 

"TO-MORROW." 

Once — many years, perhaps centuries ago — a young German student, 
named Lek, was travelling from Leipsig to the Middle Rhine. His journey 
was made on foot, and a part of it lay through the Thuringian Forest. 

He rested one night at the old walled town of Saalfeld, visited the ruins of 
Sorenburg, and entered one of the ancient roads then greatly frequented, but 
less used now, on account of the shorter and swifter avenues of travel. 

Towards evening he ascended a hill, and, looking down, was surprised to 
discover a quaint town at the foot, of which he had never heard. 

It was summer ; the red sun was going down, and the tree-tops of the vast 
forests, moved by a gentle wind, seemed like the waves of the wide sea. Lek 
was a lover of the beautiful expressions of Nature, of the poetry of the forests, 



244 



ZIGZAG JOURNEYS IN NORTHERN LANDS. 



hills, and streams ; and he sat down on a rock, under a spreading tree, to see 
the sunset flame and fade, and the far horizons sink into the shadows and 
disappear. 

"I have made a good journey to-day," he said, "and whatever the strange 
town below me may be, it will be safe for me to spend the night there. I see 
that it has a church and an inn." 

Lek had travelled much over Germany, but he had never before seen a 
town like the one below him. It wore an air of strange antiquity, — as a town 
might look that had remained unchanged for many hundred years. An old 
banner hung out from a quaint steepled building; but it was unlike any of 
modern times, national or provincial. 

The fires of sunset died away ; clouds, like smoke, rose above them, and 
a deep shadow overspread the forests. Lek gathered up his bundles, and 

descended the hill towards the town. As he was 
hurrying onward he met a strange-looking man in 
a primitive habit, — evidently a villager. Lek 
asked him the name of the place. 

The stranger looked at him sadly and with 
surprise, and answered in a dialect that he did 
not wholly understand ; but he guessed at the last 
words, and rightly. 

" Why do you wish to know ? " 
"I am a traveller," answered Lek, "and I must 
remain there until to-morrow." 

" To-morrow ! " said the man, throwing up his 
hands. " To-morrow ! For us" pointing to him- 
self, " there is no to-morrow. I must hurry on." 

He strode away towards a faded cottage on 
the outskirts of the town, leaving Lek to wonder 
what his mysterious answer could mean. 

Lek entered the town. The people were 

strange to him ; every one seemed to be in a 

hurry. Men and women were talking rapidly, like 

travellers when taking leave of their friends for 

a long journey. Indeed, so earnest were their words that they seemed hardly 

to notice him at all. 

He presently met an old woman on a crutch, hurrying along the shadowy 
street. 




OLD PEASANT COSTUMES. 




THE OLD CITY. 



THE BELLS OF THE RHINE. 



247 



"Is this the way to the inn?" he asked. 

The old one hobbled on. He followed her. 

" Is this the way to the inn ? I wish to remain there until to-morrow." 

The cripple turned on her crutch. 

" To-morrow ! " she said. " Who are you that talk of to-morrow ? All the 
gold of the mountains could not buy a to-morrow. Go back to your own, young 
man ! they may have to-morrows ; but my time is short, — I must hurry on." 

Away hobbled the dame ; and Lek, wondering at her answer, entered what 
seemed to him the principal street. 

He came at length to the inn ; a faded structure, and antique, like a picture 
of the times of old. There men were drinking and talk- 
ing ; men in gold lace, and with long purses filled with 
ancient coin. 

The landlord was evidently a rich old fellow ; he had 
a girdle of jewels, and was otherwise habited much like 
a king. 

He stared at Lek ; so did his jovial comrades. 

"Can you give a stranger hospitality until to-mor- 
row ? " asked the young student, bowing. 

" Until to-morrow ! Ha, ha, ha ! " laughed the inn- 
keeper. " He asks for hospitality until to-morrow ! " he 
added to his six jolly companions. 

" To-morrow — ha, ha, ha ! " echoed one. 

" Ha, ha, ha ! " repeated another. 

" Ha, ha, ha ! " chorused the others, slapping their 
hands on their knees. " To-morrow ! " 

Then a solemn look came into the landlord's face. 

"Young man," said he, "don't you know, have you 
not heard ? We have no to-morrows ; our nights are 
long, long slumbers ; each one is a hundred years." 

The six men were talking now, and the landlord 
turned from Lek and joined in the conversation eagerly. 

The shadows of the long twilight deepened. Men and women ran to and 
fro in the streets. Every one seemed in a hurry, as though much must be said 
and done in a brief time. 

Presently a great bell sounded in a steeple. The hurrying people paused. 
Each one uplifted his or her hands, waved them in a circle, and cried, — 

" Alas ! To-morrow ! Hurry, good men, all, good women, all, hurry ! " 




OLD PEASANT COSTUME. 



248 



ZIGZAG JOURNEYS IN NORTHERN LANDS. 



What did it mean ? " Have I gone mad ? " asked Lek. " Am I dreaming ? " 
Near the inn was a green, parched and faded. In the centre was a withered 
tree ; under it was a maiden. She was very fair ; her dress was of silk and 
jewels, and on her arms were heavy bracelets of gold. Unlike the other people, 
she did not seem hurried and anxious. She appeared to take little interest in 
the strangely stimulated activities around her. 
Lek went to her. 

"Pardon a poor student seeking information," he said. "Your people all 
treat me rudely and strangely ; they will not listen to me. I am a traveller, and 
I came here civilly, and only asked for food and lodging until to-morrow." 

"To-morrow! The word is a terror to most of them; it is no terror to 
me. I care not for to-morrows, — they are days of disappointments ; I had them 

once, — I am glad they do not 
come oftener to me. I shall 
go to sleep at midnight, here 
where I was deserted. You 
are a stranger, I see. You 
belong to the world ; every day 
has its to-morrow. Go away, 
away to your own people, and 
to your own life of to-morrows. 
This is no place for you here." 
Again the bell sounded. 
The hurrying people stopped 
again in the street, and waved 
their hands wildly, and cried, — 
" Haste, haste, good men, 
all, good women, all. The hour 
is near. Good men, all, good 
women, all, hurry ! " 

It. was night now ; but the 
full moon rose over the long 
line of hills, and behind it appeared a black cloud, from which darted tongues 
of red flame, followed by mutterings of thunder. 

The moon ascended the clear sky like a chariot, and the cloud seemed to 
follow her like an army, — an awful spectacle that riveted Lek's gaze and made 
him apprehensive. 

"A storm is coming," he said. " I must stay here. Tell me, good maiden, 
where can I find food and shelter ? " 




OLD PEASANT COSTUMES. 



THE BELLS OF THE RHINE. 



249 



" Have you a true heart ? " 

"I have a true heart. I have always been true to myself; and he who is 
true to himself is never unfaithful to God or his fellow-men." 

" Then you will be saved when the hour comes. They only go down with 
us who are untrue. All true hearts have to-morrows." 

The moon ascended higher, and her light, more resplendent, heightened the 
effect of the blackness of the rising _ 
cloud. The lightnings became IB 
more vivid, the thunder more dis- 
tinct. 

" You are sure that your heart 
is true ? " said the maiden. 

" By the Cross, it is true." 

" Then I have a duty to do. 
Follow me." 

She rose and walked towards 
the hill from which Lek had 
come. Lek followed her. As he 
passed out of the town the bell 
sounded : it was the hour of 
eleven. 

The people stopped in the I 
streets as before, waving their 
hands, and crying, — 

" Good men, all, good women, 
all, hurry ! The hour is near. 
Good men, all, good women, all, 
hurry ! " 

The maiden ascended the hill to the very rock from which the student had 
first seen the town, and under which he had rested. 

" Sit you here," she said, " and do not leave the place until the cocks crow 
for morning. A true heart never perished with the untrue. My duty is done. 
Farewell ! " 

"But the tempest?," said the student. "This is no place of shelter. Let 
me return with you, only until to-morrow." 

There burst upon the hill a terrific thunder-gust. The maiden was gone, 
the black cloud swept over the moon, and Lek could no longer discern the town 
in the valley. Everything around him grew dark. The air seemed to turn into 
a thick inky darkness. 




CITY GATE. 



250 



ZIGZAG JOURNEYS IN NORTHERN LANDS. 



Fearful flashes of lightning and terrific thunder followed. The wind bent 
the forest before it ; but not a drop of rain fell. 

There was a moment's silence. The bell in the mysterious steeple smote 
upon the air. It was midnight. 

Another hush, as though Nature had ceased to breathe. Then a thunder- 
crash shook the hills, 
and seemed to cleave 
open the very earth. 

Lek crossed him- 
self and fell upon his 
knees. The cloud 
passed swiftly. The 
moon came out again, 
revealing, the lovely 
valley. The village 
was crone. 

In the morning a 




cowherd came up the 
hill at the rising of the 
sun. 

" Good morrow," 
said Lek. " That was 
a fearful tempest that 
we had at midnight." 

" I never heard 
such thunder," said 
the cowherd. " I al- 
most thought that the 
final day had come. 
You may well say it 
was a fearful night, my boy." 

" But what has become of the village that was in the valley yesterday ? " 
asked Lek. 

"There is no village in the valley," said the cowherd. " There never was 
but one. That was sunk hundreds of years ago ; if you saw any village there 
yesterday it was that : it comes up only once in a hundred years, and then it 
remains for only a single day. Woe betide the traveller that stops there that 
day. Unless he have a true heart, he goes down with the town at midnight. 



THE NECKAR 



THE BELLS OF THE RHINE. 



251 



The town was cursed because it waxed rich, and became so wicked that there 
was found in it but one heart that was true." 

" Tell me about this strange village," said Lek, in fear and awe, recalling his 
adventure. " I never before heard of a thing so mysterious." 

" It is a sorry story. I will tell it as I have heard it. 

" The hills of Reichmanndorf used to abound with gold, and the people of 
the old town all became rich ; but their riches did not make them happy and 
contented. It made them untrue. 

"The more their wealth increased, the more unfaithful they became, until 
the men met in the market-place daily to defraud each other, and the women's 
only purpose in life was to display their vanity. 

"At the inn were nightly carousals. The young men thought only of their 
gains and dissipations. Men were untrue to their families, and lovers to their 
vows. 

" The Sabbath was not kept. The old priest, Van Ness, said masses to the 
empty aisles. 

" In those evil days lived one Frederic Wollin. He was a brave man, and 
his soul was true. 

" It was the custom of this good man to instruct the people in the market- 
place. But at last none came to hear him. 

" One day, near Christmas, the council met. Wine flowed ; rude jests went 
round. The question was discussed as to how these days of selfish delights 
might be made perpetual. 

" A great cry arose : — 

" ' Banish the holy days : then all our to-morrows will be as to-day ! ' 

" Then Wollin arose and faced the people. His appearance was met by a 
tumult, and his words increased the hatred long felt against him. 

" ' The days of evil have no to-morrows,' he said. ' He that liveth to him- 
self is dead.' 

" ' Give him a holy day once in a hundred years ! ' cried one. 

The voice was hailed with cheers. The council voted that all future days 
should be as that day, except that Wollin and the old priest, Van Ness, should 
have a holy day once in a hundred years. 

" Christmas came. No bell was rung ; no chant was heard. Easter brought 
flowers to the woods, but none to the altar. Purple Pentecost filled the forest 
villages with joy; but here no one cared to recall the descent of the celestial 
fire except the old priest and Wollin. 

"It was such a night as last night when Van Ness and Wollin came out of 



252 ZIGZAG JOURNEYS IN NORTHERN LANDS. 

the church for the last time. The people were drinking at the inn, and dancing 
upon the green. Spring was changing into deep summer; the land was filled 
with blooms. 

"A party of young men who had been carousing, on seeing Wollin come 
from the church, set upon him, and compelled him. to leave the town. He came 
up this hill. When he had reached the top, he paused and lifted his face 
towards heaven, and stretched out his hand. As he did so, a sharp sound rent 
the valley, and caused the hills to tremble. He looked down. The village had 
disappeared. Only Van Ness was standing by his side. 

" But as the villagers had promised Wollin a holy day once in a hundred 
years, so once in a hundred years these people are permitted to rise with 
their village into the light of the sun for a single day. If on that day a stranger 
visits them whose heart is untrue he disappears with them at midnight. Such 
is the story. You will hardly believe it true." 

The student crossed himself, and went on his journey towards the Rhine. 

" They have one day in a hundred years," he said. ' c How precious must 
that one day be to them ! If I enter the ways of evil, and my heart becomes 
untrue, shall / have one day in one hundred years when life is ended and my 
account to Heaven is rendered ? " 

He thought. He read the holy books. He tried to find a single hope for 
an untrue soul ; but he could discover none. 

Then he said, — 

"The days of evil have no to-morrows, — no, not once in a hundred years. 
Only good deeds have to-morrows. I will be true : so shall to-morrows open 
and close like golden doors until time is lost in the eternal." And his heart 
remained true. 



CHAPTER XIV. 

THE SONGS OF THE RHINE. 

The Watchman's Song. — The Wild Hunt of Lutzow. — The Author of the Erl 
King. — Beethoven's Boyhood. — The Organ-Tempest of Lucerne. 




HINELAND is the land of song. It is the wings 
of song that have given it its fame. Every town 
on the Rhine has its own songs ; every mountain, 
hill, and river. 

America has few local songs, — few songs of 
the people. The singers who give voices to rivers, 
lakes, mountains, and valleys have not yet appeared. The local poets 
and singers of America are yet to come. 

In England, Germany, and some of the provinces of France, every 
temple, stream, and grove has had its sweet singer. 

Go to Basle, and you may hear the clubs singing the heroic songs 
of Alsace and Lorraine. 

.Go to Heidelberg, and you may listen to student-songs through 
which breathe the national spirit of hundreds of years. 

The bands tell the story, legend, or romance of such towns at night, 
wherever they may play. 

In one of the public grounds to which the Class went for an even- 
ing rest, one of the bands was playing the Fremersberg. 

It related an old romance of the region of Baden-Baden : how that 
a nobleman was once wandering with his dogs in the mountains, and 
was overtaken by a storm ; how he was about to perish when he heard 



254 ZIGZAG JOURNEYS IN NORTHERN LANDS. 

the distant sounds of a monastery bell ; how, following the direction 
of the sound, he heard a chant of priests ; and how, at last, he was 
saved. 

The piece was full of melody. The wind, the rain, the horns, the 
bells, the chant, while they told a story, were all delightfully melo- 
dious. 

The ballad is almost banished from the intellectual American 
concert-rooms. In Germany a ballad is a gem, and is so valued. It 
is the best expression of national life and feeling. 

The Class went to hear one of Germany's greatest singers. She 
sang an heroic selection, and was recalled. Her first words on the 
recall hushed the audience : it was a ballad of the four stages of life. 
It began with an incident of a child dreaming under a rosebush : — 

" Sweetly it sleeps and on dream wings flies 
To play with the angels in Paradise, 
And the years glide by." 

as an English translation gives it. 

In the last stanza, the child having passed through the stages of 
life, was represented as again sleeping under a rosebush. The with- 
ered leaves fall upon his grave. 

" Withered and dead they fall to the ground, 
And silently cover a new-made mound, 
And the years glide by." 

These last lines were rendered so softly, yet distinctly, that they 
seemed like tremulous sounds in the air. The singer's face hardly 
appeared to move ; every listener was like a statue. The silence was 
almost painful and impressive. One could but feel this was indeed 
art, and not a pretentious affectation of it. 

The reign of the organ as the monarch of musical instruments 
began with Charlemagne, and nearly all of the towns on the Rhine 
have historic organs. Many of the organ pieces are local composi- 




AN OLD GERMAN TOWN. 



THE SONGS OF THE RHINE. 



257 



tions and imitative. On the great organs at Basle and Frieburg the 
imitation of storms is sometimes produced. 

None of these storm-pieces, however, equal that which is daily 
played in summer on the organ of Lucerne. This organ tempest 
more greatly excited the Class than any music that they heard during 
their journeys; and Master Beal made a record of it in verse, which 
we give at the close of the chapter. 

The children of Germany learn to read music at the same age that 




they learn to read books. Mu- 
sic is a part of their primary 
school — Kindergarten — edu- 
cation. The poorest children 
are taught to sing-. 

The consequence is that the Germans are a nation of singers. 
The organ is a power in the church, the military band at the festival, 
and the ballad in the concert-room and the home. 

These ballad-loving people are familiar with the best music. To 
them music is a language. Says Mayhew, in his elaborate work on 
the Rhine, in speaking of the free education in music in Germany : 
" To tickle the gustatory nerves with either dainty food or drink costs 

17 



258 ZIGZAG JOURNEYS IN NORTHERN LANDS. 

some money; but to be able to reproduce the harmonious combina- 
tions of a Beethoven or a Weber, or to make the air tremble melodi- 
ously with some sweet and simple ballad, or even to recall the sonorous 
solemnities of some prayerful chorus or fine thanksgiving in an ora- 
torio, is not only to fill the heart and brain with affections too deep 
for words, but it is to be able to taste as high a pleasure as the soul 
is capable of knowing, and yet one that may be had positively for 
nothing." 

It is to be regretted that so much of the good music of Germany 
is performed in the beer-gardens. The too free use of the glass and 
the pipe cannot tend to make the nation strong for the future ; and 
one cannot long be charmed with the music and mirth of such places 
without fearing for the losses that may follow. 

All trades and occupations have their own songs, even the hum- 
blest. Take for example the pleasing Miller's Song, which catches the 
spirit of his somewhat poetic yet homely calling : — 



" To wander is the miller's joy, 
To wander ! 
What kind of miller must he be, 
Who ne'er hath yearned to wander free ? 
To wander ! 

" From water we have learned it, yes, 

From water ! 
It knows no rest by night or day, 
But wanders ever on its way, 

Does water. 

" We see it by the mill-wheels, too, 

The mill-wheels ! 
They ne'er repose, nor brook delay, 
They weary not the livelong day, 

The mill-wheels. 

" The stones, too, heavy though they be, 
The stones, too, 



THE SONGS OF THE RHINE. 259 

Round in the giddy circle dance, 
Ee'n fain more quickly would advance, 
The stones would. 

" To wander, wander, my delight, 

To wander ! 
O master, mistress, on my way 
Let me in peace depart to-day, 

And wander ! " 

WlLHELM MlTLLER. 



The watchman, too, has his peculiar songs. One of these is very 
solemn and stately. A favorite translation of it begins : — 

" Hark ye, neighbors, and hear me tell 
Eight now strikes the loud church bell." 

An almost literal translation thus reproduces the grand themes 
which were made to remind the old guardians of the night in their 



ghostly vigils : — 



THE WATCHMAN'S SONG. 

Hark, while I sing! our village clock 
The hour of eight, good sirs, has struck. 
Eight souls alone from death were kept, 
When God the earth with deluge swept : 
Unless the Lord to guard us deign, 
Man wakes and watches all in vain. 

Lord ! through thine all-prevailing might, 
Do thou vouchsafe us a good night ! 



Hark, while I sing ! our village clock 
The hour of nine, good sirs, has struck. 
Nine lepers cleansed returned not ; — 
Be not thy blessings, man, forgot ! 
Unless the Lord to guard us deign, 
Man wakes and watches all in vain. 

Lord ! through thine all-prevailing might, 
Do thou vouchsafe us a good night ! 



260 ZIGZAG JOURNEYS IN NORTHERN LANDS. 

Hark, while I sing ! our village clock 
The hour of ten, good sirs, has struck. 
Ten precepts show God's holy will ; — 
Oh, may we prove obedient still ! 
Unless the Lord to guard us deign, 
Man wakes and watches all in vain. 

Lord ! through thine all-prevailing might, 
Do thou vouchsafe us a good night ! 

Hark, while I sing! our village clock 
The hour eleven, good sirs, has struck. 
Eleven apostles remained true ; — 
May we be like that faithful few ! 
Unless the Lord to guard us deign, 
Man wakes and watches all in vain. 

Lord ! through thine all-prevailing might, 
Do thou vouchsafe us a good night ! 

Hark, while I sing ! our village clock 
The hour of twelve, good sirs, has struck. 
Twelve is of Time the boundary ; — 
Man, think upon eternity ! 
Unless the Lord to guard us deign 
Man wakes and watches all in vain. 

Lord ! through thine all-prevailing might, 
Do thou vouchsafe us a good night ! 

Hark, while I sing ! our village clock 
The hour of one, good sirs, has struck. 
One God alone reigns over all ; 
Nought can without his will befall : 
Unless the Lord to guard us deign, ■ 
Man wakes and watches all in vain. 

Lord ! through thine all-prevailing might, 
Do thou vouchsafe us a good night ! 

' Hark, while I sing ! our village clock 
The hour of two, good sirs, has struck. 
Two ways to walk has man been given : 
Teach me the right, — the path to heaven ! 
Unless the Lord to guard us deign, 
Man wakes and watches all in vain. 

Lord ! through thine all-prevailing might, 
Do thou vouchsafe us a good night ! 



THE SONGS OF THE RHINE. 26 1 

Hark, while I sing ! our village clock 
The hour of three, good sirs, has struck. 
Three Gods in one, exalted most, 
The Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. 
Unless the Lord to guard us deign, 
Man wakes and watches all in vain. 

Lord ! through thine all-prevailing might, 

Do thou vouchsafe us a good night ! 

Hark, while I sing ! our village clock 
The hour of four, good sirs, has struck. 
Four seasons crown the farmer's care ; — 
Thy heart with equal toil prepare ! 
Up, up ! awake, nor slumber on ! 
The morn approaches, night is gone ! 

Thank God, who by his power and might 

Has watched and kept us through this night ! 



The Class devoted an autumn evening to sino-inp- the sones of the 
Rhine ; the " Watch on the Rhine," the " Loreley," the student-songs, 
folk-songs, and some of the chorals of Luther. The song that proved 
most inspiring was the " Wild Chase of Lutzow." Master Beal 
awakened a deep interest in this song before it was sung, by relating 
its history. 

"THE WILD HUNT OF LUTZOW." 

All musical ears are familiar with the refrain : " Yes, 't is the hunt of Liit- 
zow the free and the bold," — if not with these exact words, with other words of 
the same meaning. The music of C. M. Von Weber has carried the "hunt" of 
Lutzow over the world. The song and music alike catch the spirit and the 
movement of a corps of cavalry bent on the destruction of an enemy. One 
sees the flying horsemen in the poem, and hears them in the music. It was 
one of the few martial compositions that starts one to one's feet, and stirs one's 
blood with the memory of heroic achievements. 

I will give you one of the most vigorous translations. Longfellow has 
adopted it in his " Poems of Places." It catches the spirit of the original, and 
very nearly reproduces the original thought. 



262 



ZIGZAG JOURNEYS IN NORTHERN LANDS. 



LUTZOW'S WILD CHASE. 

What gleams from yon wood in the bright sunshine ? 

Hark { nearer and nearer 't is sounding ; 
It hurries along, black line upon line, 
And the shrill-voiced horns in the wild chase join, 

The soul with dark horror confounding : 
And if the black troopers' name you'd know, 
'T is Liitzow's wild Jager, — a-hunting they go ! 



ik 




MAYENCE IN THE OLDEN TIME. 

From hill to hill, through the dark wood they hie, 

And warrior to warrior is calling ; 
Behind the thick bushes in ambush they lie. 
The rifle is heard, and the loud war-cry, 

In rows the Frank minions are falling : 



THE SONGS OF THE RHINE. 263 

And if the black troopers' name you 'd know, 
'T is Liitzow's wild Jager, — a-hunting they go ! 

Where the bright grapes glow, and the Rhine rolls wide, 

He weened they would follow him never ; 
But the pursuit came like the storm in its pride, 
With sinewy arms they parted the tide, 

And reached the far shore of the river ; 
And if the dark swimmers' name you 'd know, 
'T is Liitzow's wild Jager, — a-hunting they go ! 

How roars in the valley the angry fight ; 

Hark ! how the keen swords are clashing ! 
High-hearted Ritter are fighting the fight, 
The spark of Freedom awakens bright, 

And in crimson flames it is flashing: 
And if the dark Ritters 1 name you 'd know, 
'T is Liitzow's wild Jager, — a-hunting they go ! 

Who gurgle in death, 'mid the groans of the foe, 

No more the bright sunlight seeing ? 
The writhings of death on their face they show, 
But no terror the hearts of the freemen know. 

For the Franzmen are routed and fleeing; 
And if the dark heroes' name you 'd know, 
'T is Liitzow's wild Jager, — a-hunting they go ! 

The chase of the German, the chase of the free, 

In hounding the tyrant we strained it ! 
Ye friends, that love us, look up with glee ! 
The night is scattered, the dawn we see, 

Though we with our life-blood have gained it ! 
And from sire to son the tale shall go : 
'T was Liitzow's wild Jager that routed the foe ! 



Liitzow, the cavalry hero of Prussia, in the German war for freedom against 
the rule of Napoleon, was born in 1782. He was a famous hunter, and when 
Europe arose against Bonaparte in 1813, he called for volunteers of adventurous 
spirit for cavalry service: "hunters" of the enemy, who should hang about the 
French army, and, with the destructive vigilance of birds or beasts of prey, 
give the enemy no rest on the German side of the Rhine. 



264 ZIGZAG JOURNEYS IN NORTHERN LANDS. 

The boldest young men of Germany rushed to Liitzow ; noblemen, stu- 
dents, foresters. His corps of cavalry became the terror of the French army. 
The enemy could never tell where they would be found. 

Among the young volunteers was Korner, the young German poet. He 
was a slender young man ; but he had an heroic soul, and the cavalry corps of 
the fiery Liitzow seemed to him the place for it. He joined the " wild hunters " 
in 181 3. 

" Germany rises," he said. " The Prussian eagle beats her wings ; there is 
hope of freedom. 

" I know what happiness can fruit for me in life ; I know that the star of 
fortune shines upon me ; but a mighty feeling and conviction animates me : no 
sacrifice can be too great for my country's freedom ! " 

The words glow. 

He added, — 

" I must forth, — I must oppose my breast to the storm. Can I celebrate 
the deeds of others in song, and not dare with them the danger ? " 

Korner' s battle-songs became firebrands. He consecrated himself to his 
country in the village church near Zobten. He wrote the battle-hymn for the 
occasion, which was a service for the departing volunteers. 

" We swore," he said, " the oath of fidelity to our cause. I fell upon my 
knees and implored God's blessing. The oath was repeated by all, and the 
officers swore it on their swords. Then Martin Luther's 'A Mighty Fortress 
is our God ' concluded the ceremony." 

He wrote a thrilling war-song on the morning of the battle of Danneberg, 
May 12, 1813. It ended with these words : — 

" Hark ! hear ye the shouts and the thunders before ye ? 
On, brothers, on, to death and to glory ! 
We '11 meet in another, a happier sphere ! 

On May 28, 1813, Major Von Liitzow determined to set out on an expedi- 
tion towards Thuringia, with his young cavalry and with Cossacks. Korner 
begged to accompany him. Liitzow commissioned him as an officer. He was 
wounded, and left for a time helpless in a wood, on the 17th of June. In this 
condition he wrote his famous " Farewell to Life." 

" My deep wound burns," &c. 

Korner recovered, but was suddenly killed in an engagement on August 
26th. 



THE SONGS OF THE RHINE. 265 

The " Sword Song" of Korner which Von Weber's music has made famous, 
was written a few hours before his death. It was an inspiration to the German 
cause. 

" Liitzow's Wild Chase" thrilled Prussia. Like the "Watch on the Rhine" 
in the recent war, it was the word that fired the national pride, and nerved men 
to deeds that crowned the cause with glory. 

" The Rhine ! the Rhine ! " shouted the young German heroes at last, look- 
ing down on the river. 

" Is there a battle ? " asked the officers, dashing on in the direction of the 
shout. 

" No, the enemy has gone over the Rhine," was the answer. " The Rhine ! 
the Rhine ! " 

Mr. Beal introduced a number of selections from German com- 
posers, the loved tone-poets, with interesting stories and anecdotes. 
We reproduce a part of these musical incidents, as they properly 
belong to the history of the river of song. 

Taking up a selection from Schubert's famous symphony, he spoke 
feelingly of the author, and then gave some pictures of the lives of 
Beethoven and Bach. 

THE AUTHOR OF THE ERL KING. 

Poor Schubert ! The composer of what operas, symphonies, overtures, 
choruses, masses, cantatas, sonatas, fantasias, arias ! What tenderness was in 
his soul ! — ■ Listen to the " Last Greeting ; " what fancy and emotion ! listen to 
the " Fisher Maiden " and " Post Horn ;" what refinement ! listen to the " Sere- 
nade ; " what devotion ! hear the " Ave Maria " ! 

Dead at the age of thirty-one ; dead after a life of neglect, leaving all these 
musical riches behind him ! 

Franz Schubert was born at Himmelpfortgrand, in 1797. His father was a 
musician, but a poor man. Franz was placed at the age of eleven among the 
choir-boys of the Court Chapel, where he remained five years, absorbed in 
musical studies, and making himself the master of the leading instruments of 
the orchestra. 

To compose music was his life. His restless genius was ever at work ; 
always seeking to produce something new, something better. The old masters, 



266 ZIGZAG JOURNEYS IN NORTHERN LANDS. 

and especially Haydn, Mozart, and Beethoven, were his sources of study and 
inspiration. Music became his world, and all outside of it was strange and 
unexplored. All of his moods found expression in music : his love, his hopes, 
his wit, his sadness, and his dreams. 

He seems to have composed his best works for the pure love of his art, with 
little thought of money or fame. Many of his best works he never heard per- 
formed. He left his manuscript scores scattered about his rooms, and so they 
were found in confusion after his decease. 

A monument was erected to his memory. On it is the following simple but 
touching inscription : — 

" The art of music buried here a rich possession, but yet far fairer hopes. Franz Schubert 
lies here. Born on the 30th of January, 1797, died on the 19th of November, 1828, thirty-one 
years old." 

Fame almost failed to overtake him in life ; his course was so rapid, and his 
works were so swiftly produced. It crowned his memory. 

Schubert's magnificent symphony in C is one of the most beautiful works 
of the kind ever written, and lovers of orchestral music always delight to find it 
on the programme of an evening concert. It is a charm, an enchantment ; it 
awakens feelings that are only active in the soul under exceptional influences. 
Yet the listener does not know to what he is listening : it is all a mystery; no 
one can tell what the composer intended to express by this symphony. We 
know that the theme is a noble one, — but what ? that the soul of the writer 
must have been powerfully moved during its composition, — by what influences ? 
It is an enigma : each listener may guess at the theme, and each will associate 
it with the subject most in harmony with his own taste. 

In 1844 Robert Schumann, while looking over a heap of dusty manuscripts 
at Vienna, found this wonderful symphony, until then unknown. He was so 
much charmed with it that he sent it to Mendelssohn at Leipzig. It was there 
produced at the Gewandhaus concerts, won the admiration it deserved, and 
thence found its way to all the orchestras of the world. The youthfnl composer 
had been dead nearly twenty years when the discovery was made. 

One of the best known of the dramatic German ballads is the Erl King. 

The Erl King is Death. He rides through the night. He comes to a 
happy home, and carries away a child, galloping back to the mysterious land 
whence he came. 

In this ballad a father is represented as riding with a dying child under his 
cloak. The Erl King pursues them. 



THE SONGS OF THE RHINE. 26 J 

Schubert gave the ballad its musical wings. I need not describe the music. 
It is on your piano. Let it tell the story. 

BEETHOVEN'S BOYHOOD AT BONN. 

Literary men have often produced their best works late in life. Longfel- 
low cites some striking illustrations of this truth in Morituri Salutamus : — 

"It is too late ! Ah, nothing is too late 
Till the tired heart shall cease to palpitate. 
Cato learned Greek at eighty ; Sophocles 
Wrote his grand QEdipus, and Simonides 
Bore off the prize of verse from his compeers, 
When each had numbered more than fourscore years. 
And Theophrastus, at fourscore and ten, 
Had but begun his Characters of Men. 
Chaucer, at Woodstock with the nightingales, 
At sixty wrote the Canterbury Tales ; 
Goethe at Weimar, toiling to the last, 
Completed Faust when eighty years were past." 

Such examples of late working are seldom found in musical art. Men seem 
to become musicians because of the inspiration born within them. This impell- 
ing force is very early developed. 

Handel, the greatest musical composer of his own or any age, was so devoted 
to music in childhood that his father forbade his musical studies. At the age 
of eleven he as greatly delighted and surprised Frederic I. of Prussia by his 
inspirational playing; he was in youth appointed to a conspicuous position of 
organist in Hale. 

Haydn surprised his friends by his musical talents at his fifth year. He 
had a voice of wonderful purity, sweetness, and compass, and was received as a 
choir-boy at St. Stephen's Church, Vienna. 

Mozart's childhood is a household story. He was able to produce chords on 
the harpsichord at the age of three, and wrote music with correct harmonies at 
the age' of six. Gliick had made a musical reputation at the age of eighteen. 

Mendelssohn was a brilliant pianist at six, and gave concerts at nine. Verdi 
was appointed musical director at Milan in youth. Rossini composed an opera 
at the age of sixteen, and ceased to compose music at forty. 

No other art exhibits such remarkable developments of youthful genius; 
though many eminent poets like Pindar, Cowley, Pope, Mrs. Hemans, L. E. L., 



268 



ZIGZAG JOURNEYS IN NORTHERN LANDS. 



have written well in early youth. Music is a flower that blossoms early, and 
bears early fruit. 

Music may justly be called the art of youth. 

Beethoven was born at Bonn on 
the Rhine, 1770. He lived here 
twenty-two years. His musical 
character was formed here. 

Beethoven was put at the harp- 
sichord at the age of four years. 
He was able to play the most dif- 
ficult music in every key at twelve 
years ; and was appointed one of 
the court organists when fifteen. 

The boy received this appoint- 
ment, which was in the chapel of 
the Elector of Cologne, by the in- 
fluence of Count Waldstein, who 
had discovered his genius. Here 
he was the organ prince. 

The following curious anecdote 
is told of his skill at the organ : — 
" On the last three days of the 
passion week the Lamentations of 
the Prophet Jeremiah were always 
chanted ; these consisted of pas- 
sages of from four to six lines, and 
they were sung in no particular 
time. In the middle of each sen- 
tence, agreeably to the old choral 
style, a rest was made upon one 
note, which rest the player on the 
piano (for the organ was not used 
on those three days) had to fill up 
with a voluntary flourish. 
" Beethoven told Heller, a singer at the chapel who was boasting of his 
professional cleverness, that he would engage, that very day, to put him out, at 
such a place, without his being aware of it, so that he should not be able to 
proceed. He accepted the wager ; and Beethoven, when he came to a passage 




BEETHOVEN'S HOME AT BONN. 



THE SONGS OF THE RHINE. 269 

that suited his purpose, led the singer, by an adroit modulation, out of the 
prevailing mode into one having no affinity with it, still, however, adhering to 
the tonic of the former key ; so that the singer, unable to find his way in this 
strange region was brought to a dead stand. 

" Exasperated by the laughter of those around him, Heller complained to 
the elector, who (to use Beethoven's expression) 'gave him a most gracious 
reprimand, and bade him not play any more such clever tricks.' " 

At Bonn young Beethoven devoted himself almost wholly to the organ. 
The memories of the Rhine filled his life, which ended so sadly on the Danube. 
' Bonn and Beethoven are as one name to the English or American tourist. 

THE FATHER OF ORGAN MUSIC. 

Bach, the greatest organist and composer of organ music of the last cen- 
tury, was born at Eisenach, 1685, and had truly a remarkable history. His art 
was born in him. He wrote because he must write, and sung because he must 
sing. 

His father was a court musician, and had a twin brother who occupied the 
same situation, and so much resembled him that their wives could not tell them 
apart. These twin brothers produced music nearly alike ; their dispositions 
were identical ; when one was ill, the other was so likewise, and both died at 
the same time. 

John Sebastian Bach was the brightest ornament of this music-loving family. 
His parents died in his boyhood, and his musical education was undertaken by 
his eldest brother, a distinguished organist. He fed on music as food. 

An incident will show his spirit. He was eager to play more difficult music 
than his brother assigned. He noticed that his brother had a book of especially 
difficult pieces ; and he begged to be allowed to use it, but was denied. This 
book was kept locked in a cupboard, which had an opening just wide enough to 
admit the boy's thin hand. He was able to reach it, and, by rolling it in a cer- 
tain way, to bring it out and replace it without unlocking the door. He began 
to copy it by moonlight, as no candle was allowed him in the evening, and in 
six months had reproduced in this manner the whole of the music. About this 
time his brother died, and the friendless lad engaged himself as a choir-singer, 
which gave him a temporary support. 

Organ-music became a passion with him. He determined, at whatever sacri- 
fice, to make himself the master of the instrument. He might go hungry, lose 
the delights of society ; but the first organist in Germany he would be : noth- 



270 ZIGZAG JOURNEYS IN NORTHERN LANDS. 

ing should be allowed to stand in the way of this purpose in life. He studied 
all masters. He made a long journey on foot to Lubeck to hear a great Ger- 
man master play the organ ; and when he heard him, he remained three months 
an unknown and secret auditor in the church. 

A youth in which a single aim governs life early arrives at the harvest. 
Young manhood found Bach court organist in that Athens of Germany, Wei- 
mar. His fame grew until it reached the ears of Frederick the Great. 

" Old Bach has come," joyfully said the King to his musicians, on learning 
that the great organist arrived in town. 

He became blind in his last years, as did Handel. Ten days before his 
death his sight was suddenly restored, and he rejoiced at seeing the sunshine 
and the green earth again. A few hours after this strange occurrence, he was 
seized with an apoplectic fit. He died at the age of sixty-eight. 

His organ-playing was held to be one of the marvels of Germany. He 
made the organ as it were a part of his own soul ; it expressed his thoughts 
like an interpreter, and swayed other hearts with the emotions of his own. His 
oratorios and cantatas were numbered by the hundred, many of which were pro- 
duced only on a single occasion. His most enduring work is the Passion 
Music. 

In 1850 a Bach Society was formed in London, and a revival of the works 
of the master followed. Bach wrote five passions, but only one for two choirs. 

To the general audience much of the Passion music, as arranged for English 
choral societies, seems too difficult for appreciation ; but the over-choir at the 
beginning, the expression of suffering and darkness, and the so-called earth- 
quake choruses, with its sudden and stupendous effects, impress even the 
uneducated ear. 

The beauty and power of the oratorio as a work of art are felt in proportion 
to one's musical training ; but as a sublime tone-sermon, all may feel its force, 
and dream that the awful tragedy it represents is passing before them. 



THE ORGAN-TEMPEST OF LUCERNE. 

We came to fair Lucerne at even, — 

How beauteous was the scene ! 
The snowy Alps like walls of heaven 

Rose o'er the Alps of green ; 
The damask sky a roseate light 

Flashed on the Lake, and low 



THE SONGS OF THE RHINE. 273 

Above Mt. Pilate's shadowy height 
Night bent her silver bow. 

We turned towards the faded fane, 

How many centuries old ! 
And entered as the organ's strain 

Along the arches rolled ; 
Such as when guardian spirits bear 

A soul to realms of light, 
And melts in the immortal air 

The anthem of their flight ; 
Then followed strains so sweet, 

So sadly sweet and low, 
That they seemed like memory's music, 

And the chords of long ago. 

A light wind seemed to rise ; 

A deep gust followed soon, 
As when a dark cloud flies 

Across the sun, at noon. 
It filled the aisles, — each drew 

His garments round his form ; 
We could not feel the wind that blew, 

We could only hear the storm. 
Then we cast a curious eye 

Towards the window's lights, 
And saw the lake serenely lie 

Beneath the crystal heights. 
Fair rose the Alps of white 

Above the Alps of green, 
The slopes lay bright in the sun of night, 

And the peaks in the sun unseen. 

A deep sound shook the air, 

As when the tempest breaks 
Upon the peaks, while sunshine fair 

Is dreaming in the lakes. 
The birds shrieked on their wing ; 

When rose a wind so drear, 
Its troubled spirit seemed to bring 

The shades of darkness near. 
We looked towards the windows old, 

Calm was the eve of June, 
On the summits shone the twilight's gold, 

And on Pilate shone the moon. 
18 



274 



ZIGZAG JOURNEYS IN NORTHERN LANDS. 



A sharp note's lightning flash 

Upturned the startled face ; 
When a mighty thunder-crash 

With horror filled the place ! 
From arch to arch the peal 

Was echoed loud and long ; 
Then o'er the pathway seemed to steal 

Another seraph's song; 
And 'mid the thunder's crash 

And the song's enraptured flow, 
We still could hear, with charmed ear, 

The organ playing low. 






Vd^'K-.QX/ ^S^fflfjf ^swiiiiiB 



THE RIVER OF SONG. 



As passed the thunder-peal, 

Came raindrops, falling near, 
A rain one could not feel, 

A rain that smote the ear. 
And we turned to look again 

Towards the mountain wall, 
When a deep tone shook the fane, 

Like the avalanche's fall. 
Loud piped the wind, fast poured the rain, 

The very earth seemed riven, 
And wildly flashed, and yet again, 

The smiting fires of heaven. 



THE SONGS OF THE RHINE. 275 

And cheeks that wore the light of smiles 

When slowly rose the gale, 
Like pulseless statues lined the aisles 

And, as forms of marble, pale. 
The organ's undertones 

Still sounded sweet and low. 
And the calm of a more than mortal trust 

With the rhythms seemed to flow. 

The Master's mirrored face 

Was lifted from the keys, 
As if more holy was the place 

As he touched the notes of peace. 
Then the sympathetic reeds 

His chastened spirit caught, 
As the senses met the needs 

And the touch of human thought. 
The organ whispered sweet, 

The organ whispered low, 
" Fear not, God's love is with thee, 

Though tempests round thee blow ! " 
And the soul's grand power 't was ours to trace, 

And its deathless hopes discern, 
As we gazed that night on die living face 

Of the Or^an of Lucerne. 



Then from the church it passed, 

That strange and ghostly storm, 
And a parting beam the twilight cast 

Through the windows, bright and warm. 
The music grew more clear, 

Our gladdened pulses swaying, 
When Alpine horns we seemed to hear 

On all the hillsides playing. 



We left the church ■ — how fair 

Stole on the eve of June ! 
Cool Righi in the dusky air, 

The low-descending moon ! 
No breath the lake cerulean stirred, 

No cloud could eye discern ; 
The Alps were silent, — we had heard 

The Organ of Lucerne. 



276 ZIGZAG JOURNEYS IN NORTHERN LANDS. 

Soon passed the night, — the high peaks shone 

A wall of glass and fire, 
And Morning, from her summer zone, 

Illumined tower and spire ; 
I walked beside the lake again, 

Along the Alpine meadows, 
Then sought the old melodious fane 

Beneath the Righi's shadows. 
The organ, spanned by arches quaint, 

Rose silent, cold, and bare, 
Like the pulseless tomb of a vanished saint : — 

The Master was not there ! 
But the soul's grand power 'twas mine to trace 

And its deathless hopes discern, 
As I gazed that morn on the still, dead face 

Of the Organ of Lucerne. 



CHAPTER XV. 

COPENHAGEN. 

Copenhagen. — The Story of Ancient Denmark. — The Royal Family. — Story of 
a King who was put into a Bag. 




N the Denmark Night Mr. Beal gave a short in- 
troductory talk on Copenhagen, and several of the 
boys related stones by Hans Christian Andersen. 
Master Lewis gave some account of the early his- 
tory of Denmark and of the present Royal Family ; 
and Herman Reed related an odd story of one of 



the early kings of Denmark. 

" Copenhagen, or the Merchants' Haven, the capital of the island 
kingdom of Denmark, rises out of the coast of Zealand, and breaks 
the loneliness and monotony of a long coast line. It was a beautiful 
vision as we approached it in the summer evening hours of the high 
latitude, — evening only to us, for the sun was still high above the 
horizon. The spire of the Church of Our Saviour — three hundred 
feet high — appeared to stand against the sky. Palaces seemed to 
lift themselves above the sea as we steamed slowly towards the great 
historic city of the North. 

" The entrance to the harbor is narrow but deep. The harbor 
itself is full of ships ; Copenhagen is the station of the Danish navy. 

" We passed very slowly through the water streets among the 
ships of the harbor, — for water streets they seemed, — and after a 



278 



ZIGZAG JOURNEYS IN NORTHERN LANDS. 



tedious landing, were driven through the crooked streets of a strange 
old town to a quiet hotel where some English friends we had met on 
the Continent were stopping. 

" The city is little larger than Providence, Rhode Island. Its 





&■ 



■ ■ 



i Wf-Td'.dfe'ni'inl 1 



THE PALACE OF ROSENBORG. 



public buildings are superb. It is an intellectual city, and its libra- 
ries are the finest of Europe. 

" It is divided into two parts, the old town and the new. In the 
new part are broad streets and fine squares. 

" We visited the Rosenborg Palace, the old residence of the Dan- 
ish kings; — it is only a show palace now. In the church we saw 
Thorwaidsen's statues of the Twelve Apostles, regarded as the finest 
of his works. 



COPENHA GEN. 2 8 1 



THE STORY OF ANCIENT DENMARK. 

It is a strange, wild romance, the early history of the nations of the North. 

The Greeks and Romans knew but little about the Scandinavians. They 
knew that there was a people in the regions from which came the north winds. 
The north wind was very cold. Was there a region beyond the north wind? If 
so, how lovely it must be, where the cold winds never blow. They fancied that 
there was such a region. They called the inhabitants Hyperboreans, or the 
people beyond the north wind. They imagined also that in this region of eter- 
nal summer men did not die. If one of the Hyperboreans became tired of earth, 
he had to kill himself by leaping from a cliff. 

The Northmen, or the inhabitants of Denmark, Norway, and Sweden, were 
of the same origin as the tribes that peopled Germany, and that came from the 
East, probably from the borders of the Black Sea. They were fire-worshippers, 
and their chief god was Odin. 

Denmark means a land of dark woods. In ancient times it was probably 
covered with sombre firs. One of its early kings was Dan the Famous. His 
descendants were called Danes. 

Many ages after the reign of this king, the land was filled with peace and 
plenty. It was the Golden Age of the North. Frode the Peaceful was king in 
the Golden Age. He ruled over all lands from Russia to the Rhine, and over 
two hundred and twenty kingdoms of two hundred and twenty subjugated kings. 
There was no wrong, nor want, nor thieves, nor beggars in the Golden Age. 
This happy period of Northern history was at that age of the world when Christ 
was born. 

According to the Scalds, the god Odin used to appear to men. He appeared 
the last time at the battle of Bravalla, a contest in which the Frisians, Wends, 
Finns, Lapps, Danes, Saxons, Jutes, Goths, and Swedes all were engaged. The 
dead were so thick on the field, after this battle, that their bodies reached to the 
axle-wheels of the chariots of the victors. At the time of this battle Christian- 
ity was being proclaimed in England. It was approaching the North. With 
the battle of Bravalla the mythic age of Denmark and the North comes to 
an end. 

I have told you something of Louis le Debonnaire, who went to die on a rock 
in the Rhine, that the waters might lull him to his eternal repose. He was a 
missionary king, and he desired nothing so much as the conversion of the world 
to Christ. He was the son of Charlemagne. " It is nobler to convert souls 



282 ZIGZAG JOURNEYS IN NORTHERN LANDS. 

than conquer kingdoms " was his declaration of purpose. He sent missionary- 
apostles to the North to convert Denmark. His missions at first were failures, 
but in the end they resulted in giving all the Northern crowns to Christ's king- 
dom, that Louis loved more than his own. 

The Danes in the Middle Ages became famous sea-kings. Before England, 
Denmark ruled the sea. One stormy day in December Gorm the Old appeared 
before Paris with seven hundred barks. He compelled the French king to sue 
for peace. 

The sea-kings conquered England. Canute the Dane was king of all the 
regions of the northwest of Europe. His kingdom embraced Denmark, Eng- 
land, Sweden, Norway, Scotland, and Cumberland. Such is the second wonderful 
period of Denmark's history. 

THE ROYAL FAMILY OF DENMARK. 

Royal people, as well as "self-made men," often undergo remarkable changes 
of fortune. No one, however high or low, is free from the accidents of this 
world. All men have surprises, either good or bad, in store for them. 

Few families have experienced a more striking change in position than the 
present royal house of the little northern kingdom of Denmark. Twenty years 
ago, the present king, Christian IX., was a rather poor and obscure gentleman, 
of princely rank, to be sure, residing quietly in Copenhagen, and bringing up his 
fine family of boys and girls in a very domestic and economical fashion. He 
was only a remote cousin of Frederick VII., the reigning monarch, and he 
seemed little likely to come to the throne. 

But death somewhat suddenly prepared the way for him, so that wften old 
Frederick died, in 1863, Christian found himself king. 

This, however, was but the beginning of the fortunes of this once modest 
and little-known household. Just before Christian came to the throne, his eldest 
daughter, Alexandra, a beautiful and an amiable girl, attracted the attention of 
the Prince of Wales. The prince became attached to her, and in due time mar- 
ried her. 

About the same time, Christian's second son, George, was chosen King of 
Greece, and was crowned at Athens, and is still reigning there. 

After three years had passed, the second daughter, Maria Dagmar, who, like 
her sister Alexandra, was a very lovely and attractive girl, was married to the 
Czarowitch Alexander of Russia, after having been betrothed to his elder brother 
Nicholas, who died. She is now Empress of Russia. 



COPENHAGEN. 285 

Somewhat later, the eldest son of the Danish king married the only daugh- 
ter of Oscar II., King of Sweden and Norway, thus forming a new link of 
national friendship between the three Scandinavian nations. 

It is thus quite possible that in the not distant future no less than four of 
King Christian's children, who were brought up with little more expectation 
than that of living respectably and wedding into Danish noble families, will 
occupy thrones in Europe. It may happen that the two daughters will share 
two of the greatest of those thrones, — that one will be Queen of England ; the 
other is Empress of Russia, — -while the two sons will be respectively King of 
Denmark and King of Greece. 

This great good fortune, in a worldly point of view, which has come to the 
Danish royal family, cannot certainly be attributed solely, or even mainly, to 
luck or chance. It has been, after all, chiefly its virtues which have won it such 
a high position in Europe. The good breeding and excellent character of the 
king's children have won for them the prominence they now hold ; for the daugh- 
ters are as womanly and virtuous as they are physically attractive, and the sons 
are models of manly bearing and irreproachable habits. 

THE STORY OF A KING WHO WAS PUT INTO A BAG. 

"His realm was once a cradle, and now it is a coffin," might be said of the 
most powerful monarch that ever lived. Kings are but human, and they are 
pitiable objects indeed when they fall from their high estate into the power of 
their enemies. Never did a king present a more humiliating spectacle in his 
fall than Valdemar II., called the Conqueror. 

Under the early reign of this king, the Golden Age seemed to have returned 
to Denmark. Never was a young monarch more prosperous or glorious in so 
narrow a kingdom. 

His empire grew. He annexed Pomerania. He wrested from the German 
Empire all the territories in their possession north of the Elbe and Elde, and he 
finally became the master of Northern Germany. 

He was a champion of the Church. A papal bull conceded to him the sover- 
eignty of all the people he might convert, and he entered the field against the 
pagans of Esthonia, with an army of 60,000 men, and 1,400 ships ! He baptized 
the conquered with kingly pomp and pride. 

His reign was now most splendid. Denmark was supreme in Scandinavia 
and Northern Germany. The Pope revered the Danish power, and the world 
feared it;' 



2 86 ZIGZAG JOURNEYS IN NORTHERN LANDS. 

But secret foes are often more dangerous than open enemies. The con- 
quered princes of Germany hated him, and planned his downfall. 

Among these was the Count-Duke of Schwerin. He pretended great respect 
and affection for Valdemar. He laid many snares for the king's ruin, but they 
failed. He was called "Black Henry" in his own country on account of his dark 




THE KING IN THE BAG. 



face and evil nature, and Valdemar had been warned against him as a false 
friend. 

But he was warm, obsequious, and fascinating to the king, and the king 
liked him. 

In the spring of 1233 Valdemar invited him to hunt with him in the woods 
of Lyo. 

"Tell the king I am disabled and cannot leave my couch," said the artful 
count, who now thought of a way to accomplish his long-cherished purpose. 

He left his couch at once, and sent his spies to shadow the king. 

The king landed at Lyo with only a few attendants. 

One night the king was sleeping in the woods of Lyo in a rude, unguarded 
tent. His son was by his side. 

They were awaked from slumber by an assault from unknown foes, and a 
sense of suffocation. 



COPENHAGEN. 287 

What had happened ? The king could not move his arms ; his head seemed 
enveloped in cloth. He could not see; his voice was stifled. He felt himself 
carried away. 

Black Henry had entered the tent with his confidants, and had put the King 
of the North and his son into two bags, and tied them up, and was now hurrying 
away with them to the river. 

Black Henry laid his two captives in the bottom of a boat like two logs, 
and hoisted sail ; and Valdemar, whose kingdom was now only a bag, was blown 
away towards the German coast. 

He was thrown into prison, and there lived in darkness and neglect. The 
Pope ordered his release, but it was not heeded. The Danes tried to rescue 
him, but were defeated. 

He was at last set free on the agreement that he should pay a large ransom. 
He returned to his kingdom, but found his territory reduced to its old narrow 
limits. His glory was gone. His empire had been the North ; it had also been 
a bag; and at last it was a coffin. Poor old man ! His last years were peaceful, 
and in them he served Denmark well. 



CHAPTER XVI. 

NORWAY. 

Stockholm. — Story of the Hero King. — Upsala. — Norway. — Christiania. 
King Olaf. — Drontheim. — The Fisherman of Faroe. 




HE narrative of travel and history was continued by 
Mr. Beal. 

" Strange is the evolution of cities. 
" We are about to glance at Stockholm. Let 
us go back in imagination six hundred years. 

" There are some rocky islands in the Baltic, at the foot of the 
northern peninsula. Sea birds wheel above them in the steel-gray 
air; they build their nests there. Storms sweep over these lonely 
islands ; sunlight bursts upon them, and now and then a Viking's ship 
finds a haven among them, and scares away the birds. 

" Years pass. Fishermen build huts on the islands. Hunters 
come there. There come also the sea kings. A mixed, strange 
people. 

" They build a village on the holms, or islets. They defend them- 
selves with stockades, and they found on stocks, or beams, their strong 
houses. The growing town rises from stock holms ; hence, Stock- 
holm. 

" The years pass, and the sea birds fly away. There are .wings of 
gables where once were wings of birds. Stockholm becomes a for- 
tress, and, as in the case of St. Petersburg in recent times, the sea 




GUSTAVUS ADOLPHUS. 



NORWAY. 



291 



desolation pulses with life and energy, and is transformed into a city. 
Churches, palaces, gardens, arise. Battles are fought, and here tread 
the feet of kings. 

" The wonder grows. The birds scream far away now. The 
islands are spanned by bridges. Stockholm stands a splendid city, 
one of the crowns of earth. 

" The city lies before us. Noble structures, villas, steeples, are seen 
among the green trees. The ships of many flags lie together like a 
town in the sea. 

" It is sunset. The tops of the linden-trees are crowned with sun- 
light, the Gothic windows burn. A shadow falls from the gray sky. 
Afar fly the white sea-gulls. The shadow deepens. It is night. We 
are in Stockholm. 

" Every nation has its hero. 

" You have been told how that poor Louis le Debonnaire, the son 
of Charlemagne, preferred to win crowns for Christ's kingdom rather 
than for his own. He lost his own kingdom ; but the missionaries he 
sent forth, though at first not successful, were the means of giving 
Christianity to all the nations of the North. 

THE HERO KING OF SWEDEN. 

There was born in Stockholm, in 1594, an heir to the Swedish throne, whose 
influence was destined to be felt throughout the world and to very distant 
periods of time. The child was named Gustavus Adolphus. 

He was educated for the kingdom. At the age of ten he was made to 
attend the sittings of the Diet and the councils of state. In boyhood he was 
able to discuss state affairs in Latin, and in youth he was able to speak nearly 
all European tongues. 

He was schooled in the arts of war as well as peace. In early manhood he 
entered Russia at the head of an army, and compelled the Czar to sue for 
peace. 

After the war the young king gave his whole heart to the development of 
the industries and institutions of his kingdom. He founded schools, assisted 



292 ZIGZAG JOURNEYS IN NORTHERN LANDS. 

churches, and everywhere multiplied influences for good. Never did a monarch 
devote himself more earnestly to the improvement of his people, or accomplish 
more in a short time. His influence for good has ever lived in Sweden, and is 
felt strongly to-day. 

He was an ardent Protestant. The Catholic powers of the South and the 
Protestant powers of the North had become very hostile, and war between them 
seemed impending. In this crisis the Protestant leaders looked to Gustavus 
Adolphus as the champion of their cause. 

In 1630 Gustavus called a Diet in Stockholm, and reported the danger that 
was threatening the Protestant states of Germany, and which would involve 
Sweden unless checked. He announced that he had decided to espouse the 
cause of the German princes, and to enter the field. He took his little daughter 
in his arms, and commended her to the Diet as the heir to the crown. 

He landed in Germany on Midsummer's day in 1630. He had an army of 
fifteen thousand men. It was a small army indeed for so perilous an undertak- 
ing. " Cum Deo et victricibus armis is my motto," he declared, and trusting in 
this watchword he advanced on his dangerous course. 

The Imperialists, as the foes of the Reformed Faith were called, were led by 
Wallenstein. They were greatly superior in numbers to the Swedes and their 
allies. 

At Lutzen the great battle of Protestantism was fought, Nov. 6, 1632. 

" I truly believe that the Lord has given my enemies into my hands," said 
Gustavus, just before the battle. 

The morning dawned gray and gloomy. A heavy mist hung over the two 
armies. 

The Swedish and German army united in singing Luther's hymn, — 

"Ein' feste Burg ist unser Gott." 

Then Gustavus said, — 

" Let us sing 'Christ our Salvation.' " 

" Be not dismayed, thou little flock, 
Although the foe's fierce battle-shock, 

Loud on all sides, assail thee. 
Though o'er thy fall they laugh secure, 
Their triumph cannot long endure ; 

Let not thy courage fail thee. 

"Thy cause is God's, — go at his call, 
And to his hand commit thy all ; 
Fear thou no ill impending : 




DEATH OF GUSTAVUS AND HIS PAGE. 



NORWAY. 295 

His Gideon shall arise for thee, 
God's Word and people manfully, 
In God's own time, defending. 

" Our hope is .sure in Jesus' might ; 
Against themselves the godless fight, 
Themselves, not us, distressing ; 
Shame and contempt their lot shall be ; 
God is with us, with him are we : 
To us belongs his blessing." 

Clad in his overcoat without armor, he mounted his horse and rode along the 
lines. 

" The enemy is within your reach," he said to the allies. 

" Swedes," he said to his old army, " if you fight as I expect of you, you 
shall have your reward ; if not, not a bone of your bodies will ever return to 
Sweden." 

To the Germans he said, — 

" If you fail me to-day, your religion, your freedom, and your welfare in this 
world and in the next are lost." 

He prophesied to the Germans, — 

" Trust in God ; believe that with his help you may this day gain a victory 
which shall profit your latest descendants." 

He waved his drawn sword over his head and advanced. 

The Swedes and Finns responded with cheers and the clash of arms. 

"Jesus, Jesus, let us fight this day for thy name," he exclaimed. 

The whole army was now in motion, the king leading amid the darkness and 
gloom of the mist. 

The battle opened with an immediate success for the Swedes. But in the 
moment of victory the king was wounded and fell from his horse. 

" The king is killed ! " 

The report was like a death-knell to the Swedes, but only for a moment. 

The king's horse with an empty saddle was seen galloping wildly down the 
road. 

" Lead us again to the attack," the leaders demanded of George of Saxe- 
Weimar. 

The spirit of the dead king seemed to infuse the little army with more than 
human valor. The men fought as though they were resolved to give their lives 
to their cause. The memory of the king's words in the morning thrilled them- 



296 ZIGZAG JOURNEYS IN NORTHERN LANDS. 

Nothing could stand before such heroism. Pappenheim fell. The Imperialists 
were routed. The Swedes at night, victorious, possessed the field, but they had 
lost the bravest of kings, and one of the most unselfish of rulers. 



" We left Stockholm for Upsala, the student city. The paddles of 
the boat brushed along the waters of the Malar ; the old city retreated 
from view, and landscape after landscape of variegated beauty rose 
before us. 

" The Malar Lake is margined with dark pines, bright meadows 
and fields, light green linden-trees, gray rocks, and shadowy woods. 
Here and there are red houses among the lindens. 

" We pass flat-bottomed boats, that dance about in the current 
made by the steamer. 

" The hills of Upsala come into view. The University next 
appears, like a palace ; then a palace indeed, red like the houses ; 
then the gabled town. 

" We went to the church, and were conducted into a vaulted cham- 
ber where were crowns and sceptres taken from the coffins of dead 
kings. We wandered along the aisle after leaving the treasure-room 
of the dead, and gazed on cold tombs and dusty frescos. 

" Here sleeps Gustavus Vasa. 

" In the centre aisle, under a flat stone, lies the great botanist, 
Linnaeus. 

" We visited the garden of Linnaeus, or the place where it once 
bore the blossoms and fruits of the world. Nettles were there ; the 
orangeries were gone ; the winter garden had . disappeared. The 
place wore a desolate look ; the master had departed, leaving little 
there but the ghost of a great memory. 

" We left Stockholm for Norway. 

" We were landed from the steamer at Christiansand. This sea- 
port is a rude town, and except from the wild, strange expression of 
both land and sea, which affects one gloomily, yet with a kind of poetic 




CASCADE IN NORWAY. 



A' OR WAY. 



: 99 



sadness, revealed little to interest us or to remember. There was a 
Lazaretto, or pest-house, on a high rock, from which we felt sure that 
no disease would ever be communicated. 




LAZARETTO. 



" The scenery of Norway is unlike any other in the world. Take 
the map and scan the western coast. It looks like a piece of lace- 
work, so numerous are the inlets or fiords. 

" These fiords are many of them surrounded by headlands as high 
as mountain walls. They are little havens, with calm water of won- 
drous beauty and with walls that seem to reach to the sky. On a 
level spot in the mountainous formation, a hamlet or a little church is 
sometimes seen, one of the most picturesque objects with its setting 
in the world." 



300 



ZIGZAG JOURNEYS IN NORTHERN LANDS. 



[The artist can give one a better view of these fiords than any 
description, and he has faithfully done it here.] 







THE NAERO FIORD. 



" The mountains and valleys of Norway are unlike any other. 
Summer finds them as winter leaves them. Great hills are worn into 
cones by the snow and ice. The cataracts are numerous and won- 
derful. The water scenery has no equal for romantic beauty and 
wildness. 

" A twelve hours' farther sail brought us to Christiania. It is 
situated in a lovely valley on the northern side of Christiania Fiord. 



NORWAY. 3OI 

It has a population of about eighty thousand. Here are the Royal 
Palace and University. 

" All of the cities of the North have great schools and libraries. 
The University at Christiania has nearly a thousand students, and a 
library of one hundred and fifty thousand books. 

" The port is covered with ice during some four months in the 
year. During the mild seasons some two thousand vessels yearly 
enter the harbor. 

" Olaf, the Saint, the King of ' Norroway,' who preached the Gos- 
pel ' with his sword,' is the hero of the western coast. I might relate 
many wonderful stories of him, but I would advise you to read ' The 
Saga of King Olaf,' by Longfellow, in the ' Wayside Inn.' 

" His capital was Drontheim, far up among the northern regions, 
where the sun shines all night in summer, and where the winters are 
wild and dreary, cold and long. It is a quaint old town. Summer 
tourists to the western coast of Norway sometimes visit it. Its cathe- 
dral was founded by Olaf, and is nearly a thousand years old. 

" And now in ten nights' entertainments, you have taken hasty 
views of Germany and the old Kingdom of Charlemagne. Narratives 
of travel and history have been mingled with strange traditions and 
tales of superstition ; all have combined to give pictures of the ages 
that are faded and gone, and that civilization can never wish to recall. 
Men are reaching higher levels in religion, knowledge, science, and 
the arts. Kingcraft is giving way to the governing intelligence of 
the people, and superstition to the simple doctrines of the Sermon 
on the Mount and to the experiences of a spiritual life. The age of 
castles and fortresses, like churches, is gone. The age of peace and 
good-will comes with the fuller light of the Gospel and intelligence. 
The pomps of cathedrals will never be renewed. The Church is com- 
ing to teach that character is everything, and that the soul is the 
temple of God's spiritual indwelling." 



302 ZIGZAG JOURNEYS IN NORTHERN LANDS. 

The tenth evening was closed by Charlie Leland. He read an 
original poem, suggested by an incident related to him by a fisherman 
at Stockholm. 

THE FISHERMAN OF FAROE. 

When life was young, my white sail hung 

O'er ocean's crystal floor ; 
In the fiords alee was the dreaming sea, 

And the deep sea waves before. 
The Faroe fishermen used to call 
From the pier's extremest post : 
" Strike out, my boy, from the ocean wall ; 
There 's danger near the coast. 
Beware of the drifting dunes 
In the nights of the watery moons, 
Beware of the Maelstrom's tide 
When the western wind blows free, 
Of the rocks of the Skagerrack, 
Of the shoals of the Cattegat ; 
Strike out for the open sea, 
Strike out for the open sea ! " 

" O pilot ! pilot ! every rock 

You know in the ocean wall." 
" No, no, my boy, I only know 

Where there are no rocks at all, 
Where there are no rocks at all, my boy, 

And there no ship is lost. 
Strike out, strike out for the open sea ; 
There 's danger near the coast. 
Beware, I say, of the dunes 
In the nights of the watery moons, 

Beware of the Maelstrom's tide 
When the western wind blows free, 
Of the rocks of the Skagerrack, 
Of the shoals of the Cattegat ; 
Strike out for the open sea, 
Strike out for the open sea ! " 

Low sunk the trees in the sun-laved seas, 

And the flash of peaking oars 
Grew faint and dim on the sheeny rim 

Of the harbor-dented shores. 



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NORWAY. 3O; 



And far Faroe in the light lay low, 
Where rode like a dauntless host 
The white-plumed waves o'er the green sea graves 
Of the rock-imperilled coast. 

And 1 thought of the drifting dunes 
In the nights of the watery moons, 

And I thought of the Maelstrom's tide 
When the western wind blew free, 
Of the rocks of the Skagerrack, 
Of the shoals of the Cattegat, 
And I steered for the open sea, 
I steered for the open sea. 

To far Faroe I sailed away, 

When bright the summer burned, 
And I told in the old Norse kirk one day 

The lesson my heart had learned. 
Then the grizzly landvogt said to me : 

" Of strength we may not boast ; 
But ever in life for you and me 
There 's danger near the coast. 
Then think of the drifting dunes 
In the nights of the watery moons, 

And think of the Maelstrom's tide 
When the western wind blows free, 
Of the rocks of the Skagerrack, 
Of the shoals of the Cattegat ; 
Strike out for the open sea. 
Strike out for the open sea ! " 

" O landvogt, well thou knowest the ways 

Wherein my feet may fall." 
'• Oh, no, my boy, I only know 
The ways that are safe to all, 
The ways that are safe to all, my boy, 

And there no soul is lost. 
Strike out in life for the open sea, 
There 's danger near the coast. 
Then think of the drifting dunes 
In the nights of the watery moons, 

And think of the Maelstrom's tide 
When the western wind blows free, 
Of the rocks of the Skagerrack, 
Of the shoals of the Cattegat : 
Strike out for the open sea, 
Strike out lor the open sea ! 



306 ZIGZAG JOURNEYS IN NORTHERN LANDS. 

" False lights, false lights, are near the land, 

The reef the land wave hides, 
And the ship goes down in sight of the town 

That safe the deep sea rides. 
'T is those who steer the old life near 

Temptation suffer most ; 
The way is plain to life's open main, 
There 's danger near the coast. 
Beware of the drifting dunes 
In the nights of the watery moons, 

Beware of the Maelstrom's tide 
When the western wind blows free, 
Of the rocks of the Skagerrack, 
Of the shoals of the Cattegat; 
Strike out for the open sea, 
Strike out for the open sea ! " 

And so on life's sea I sailed away, 

Where free the waters flow, 
As I sailed from the old home port that day 

For the islands of far Faroe. 
And when I steer temptation near, 

The pilot, like a ghost, 
On the wave-rocked pier I seem to hear : 
" There 's danger near the coast. 
Beware of the drifting dunes 
In the nights of the watery moons, 

Beware of the Maelstrom's tide 
When the western wind blows free, 
Of the rocks of the Skagerrack, 
Of the shoals of the Cattegat ; 
Strike out for the open sea, 
Strike out for the open sea ! " 



CHAPTER XVII. 



THE GREATER RHINE. 



The Return Homeward. — On the Terrace, — Quebec. 




HE Class made their return voyage by the way of 
Liverpool to Quebec, one of the shortest of the 
ocean ferries, and one of the most delightful in mid- 
summer and early autumn, when the Atlantic is 
usually calm, and the icebergs have melted away. 
As the steamer was passing down the Mersey, 
and Liverpool with her thousands of ships, and Birkenhead with its 
airy cottages, were disappearing from view, Mr. Beal remarked to the 
boys . — 

" We shall return through the Straits, and so shall be probably 
only four and a half days out of sight of land." 

" I did not suppose it was possible to cross the Atlantic from land 
to land in four days and a half," said Charlie Leland. 

" We shall stop to-morrow at Moville, the port of Londonderry," 
said Mr. Beal. " A few hours after we leave we shall sink the Irish 
coast. Make notes of the time you lose sight of the light-houses of 
Ireland, and of the time when you first see Labrador, and compare 
the dates towards the end of the voyage," said Mr. Beal. 

Past the green hills of Ireland the steamer glided along, among 
ships so numerous that the sea seemed a moving city, or the suburbs 
of a moving city ; for Liverpool itself, with her seven miles of wonder- 
ful docks, is a city of the sea. 



310 . ZIGZAG JOURNEYS IN NORTHERN LANDS. 

The Giant's Causeway, the sunny' port of Moville, the rocky 
islands with their white light-houses, were passed, and at one o'clock 
on Monday morning the last light dropped into the calm sea, fading 
like a star. 

The Atlantic was perfectly calm — as "calm as a mill-pond" as the 
expression is, during the tranquillity of the ocean that follows the set- 
tled summer weather. The steamer was heavily loaded, and had little 
apparent motion ; bright days and bright nights succeeded each other. 
A flock of gulls followed the steamer far out to sea. For three days ' 
no object of interest was seen on the level ocean except the occasional 
spouting of a whale. 

The sky was a glory in the long twilights. The sun when half set 
made the distant ocean seem like an island of fire, and the liojit clouds 
after sunset like hazes drifting away from a Paradisic sphere. 

On Thursday morning the shadowy coast of Labrador appeared. 
The voyage seemed now virtually ended after four days from land to 
land. There were three days more, but the steamer would be in calm 
water, with land constantly in view. 

The Straits of Belle Isle, some six miles wide, were as calm as had 
been the ocean. The Gulf of St. Lawrence — the fishing field of the 
world — was like a surface of class. The sunrise and moonrise were 
now magnificent; the sunsets brought scenes to view as wonderful as 
the skies of Italy ; gigantic mountains rose ; clustering sails broke the 
monotonous expanse of the glassy sea, and now and then appeared 
an Indian canoe such as Jacques Cartier and the early explorers saw 
nearly three centuries ago. 

' The wild shores of Anticosti rose and sunk. 

" We are now in the Greater Rhine," said Mr. Beal to the boys, — 
" the Rhine of the West." 

" How is that? " asked Charlie Leland. "Is not the Hudson the 
American Rhine ? " 

"It is the New York Rhine," said Mr. Beal, smiling. "The river 




NIAGARA FALLS. 



THE GREATER RHINE. 31 3 

St. Lawrence is, by right of analogy', the American Rhine, and so de- 
serves to be called." 

" Which is the larger river? " asked Charlie. 

" The larger? " 

" Yes, the longer ? " 

" It does not seem possible that an American school-boy could 
seriously ask such a question ! I am sometimes astonished, however, 
at the ignorance that older people of intelligence show in regard to 
our river of which all Americans should be proud. 

" Ours is the Greater Rhine. The German Rhine is less than a 
thousand miles long; our Rhine is nearly twenty-five hundred miles 
long: the German Rhine can at almost any point be easily spanned 
with bridges; our Rhine defies bridges, except in its narrowest boun- 
daries. The great inland seas of Superior,^ Huron, Michigan, Ontario, 
and Erie require a width of miles for their pathway to the ocean. 
The Rhine falls cannot be compared with Niagara, nor the scattered 
islands of the old river with the Lake of a Thousand Islands of the 
new. Quebec is as beautiful as Coblentz, and Montreal is in its situa- 
tion one of the loveliest cities of the world. 

" The tributaries of the old Rhine are small ; those of the new are 
almost as large as the old Rhine itself, — the gloomy Saguenay, and 
the sparkling Ottawa. 

" Think of its lakes ! Lake Ladoga, the largest lake in Europe, 
contains only 6,330 square miles. Lake Superior has 32,000 square 
miles, and Michigan 22,000 square miles. 

" You will soon have a view of the mountain scenery of the lower 
St. Lawrence. The pine-covered walls along which trail the clouds 
of the sky are almost continuous to Montreal." 

"But why," asked Charlie Leland, "is the German Rhine so 
famous, and ours so little celebrated ? " 

" The German Rhine gathers around it the history of two thou- 
sand years ; ours, two hundred years. What will our Rhine be two 
thousand years from to-day?" 



314 ZIGZAG JOURNEYS IN NORTHERN LANDS. 

He added : — 

" I look upon New England as one of the best products of civiliza- 
tion thus far. But there is rising a new New England in the West, 
a vast empire in the States of the Northwest and in Canada, to which 
New England is as a province, — an empire that in one hundred years 
will lead the thought, the invention, and the statesmanship of the 
world. Every prairie schooner that goes that way is like a sail of 
the ' Mayflower.' 

" In yonder steerage are a thousand emigrants. The easy-going, 
purse-proud cabin passengers do not know it ; they do not visit them 
or give much thought to them : but there are the men and women 
whose children will one day sway the empire that will wear the crown 
of the world. 

" The castles are fading from view on the hills of the old Rhine ; 
towns and cities are leaping into life on the new. The procession of 
cities, like a triumphal march, will go on, on, on. The Canadian Em- 
pire will probably one day lock hands with the imperial States of the 
Northwest ; Mexico, perhaps, will join the Confederacy, and Western 
America will doubtless vie with Eastern Russia in power, in progress, 
and in the glories of the achievements of the arts and sciences. Our 
Rhine has the future: let the old Rhine have the past." 

The Class approached Quebec at night. The scene was beautiful : 
like a city glimmering against the sky, the lights of the lower town, 
of the upper town, and of the Castle standing on the heights, shone 
brightly against the hills; and the firing of guns and the striking of 
bells were echoed from the opposite hills of the . calm and majestic 
river. 

The Class spent a day at Quebec, chiefly on the Terrace, — one of 
.the most beautiful promenades in the world. From the Terrace the 
boys saw the making up of the emigrant trains on the opposite side 
of the river, where the steamer had landed, and saw them disappear 
along the winding river, going to the great province of Ontario, the 
lone woods of Muskoka, and the far shores of the Georgian Bay. 



THE GREATER RHINE. 319 

" I wish we might make a Zigzag journey on the St. Lawrence," 
said Charlie Leland. 

" And collect the old legends, stories, and histories of the Indian 
tribes, and the early explorers and French settlers," added Mr. Beal. 
" Perhaps some day we may be able to do so. I am in haste to return 
to the States, but I regret to leave a place so perfectly beautiful as the 
Terrace of- Quebec. It is delightful to sit here and see the steamers 
go and come ; to watch the bright, happy faces pass, and to recall the 
fact that the river below is doubtless to be the water-path of the na- 
tions that will most greatly influence future times. But our journey 
is ended : let us go." 

ON THE TERRACE, — QUEBEC. 

Alone, beside these peaceful guns 

I walk, — the eve is calm and fair ; 
Below, the broad St. Lawrence runs, 

Above, the castle shines in air, 
And o'er the breathless sea and land 
Night stretches forth her jewelled hand. 

Amid the crowds that hurry past — 

Bright faces like a sunlit tide — 
Some eyes the gifts of friendship cast 

Upon me, as I walk aside, 
Kind, wordless welcomes understood, 
The Spirit's touch of brotherhood. 

Below, the sea ; above, the sky, 

Smile each to each, a vision fair; 
So like Faith's zones of light on high, 

A sphere seraphic seems the air, 
And loving thoughts there seem to meet, 
And come and go with golden feet. 

Below me lies the old French town, 

With narrow rues and churches quaint, 
And tiled roofs and gables brown, 

And signs with names of many a saint. 
And there in all I see appears 
The heart of twice an hundred years. 



■2 20 ZIGZAG JOURNEYS IN NORTHERN LANDS. 



Beyond, by inky steamers mailed, 
Point Levi's painted roofs arise, 

Where emigration long has hailed 
The empires of the western skies; 

And lightly wave the red flags there, 

Like roses of the damask air. 

Peace o'er yon garden spreads her palm, 
Where heroes fought in other days ; 

And Honor speaks of brave Montcalm 
On Wolfe's immortal shaft of praise. 

What lessons that I used to learn 

In schoolboy days to me return ! 

Fair terrace of the Western Rhine, 
I leave thee with unwilling feet, 

I long shall see thy castle shine 
As bright as now, in memories sweet ; 

And cheerful thank the kindly eyes 

That lent to me their sympathies. 

Go, friendly hearts, that met by chance 
A stranger for a little while ; 

Friendship itself is but a glance, 
And love is but a passing smile. 

I am a pilgrim, — all I meet 

Are glancing eyes and hurrying feet. 

Farewell ; in dreams I see again 
The northern river of the vine, 

While crowns the sun with golden grain 
The hillsides of the greater Rhine. 

And here shall grow as years increase 

The empires of the Rhine of Peace. 



University Press : John Wilson & Son, Cambridge. 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 






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